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LONDON 

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122, FLEET STREET 


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LONDON: 

ADDS, PHINTEKS, CHANDOS 5TKEET, 
COTENT GAEDEN. 




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DEDICATION 


I dedicate the following 1 pages to my friend, 
“ Cornelius O’Dowd,,” as a feeble but sincere tribute 
of respect to his literary talents, and in heartiest 
acknowledgment of liis thorough knowledge of Con- 

o o o 

tinental life, and of the duties which a Royal Messenger 
has to fulfil. These duties are thus referred to bv 

V 

him in an admirable article, entitled “A Hint to the 
Civil Service Examiners — 

“Let us take, by way of illustration, the Royal 
Messenger Service. These foreign Mercuries, who 
travel throughout Europe at a pace only short of the 
telegrams, are wonderful fellows, and must be very 
variously endowed. What capital sleepers, and yet 
how easily awakened! What a deal of bumping 
must their heads be equal to !—what an indifference 

n ° 

Cl oJ 



IV 


DEDICATION. 


must they be endowed with to bad dinners, bad roads, 
bad servants, and bad smells ! How patient they 
must be here, how peremptory there!—how they 
must train their stomachs to long fastings, and their 
skin to little soap ! What can Civil Service Exami¬ 
ners discover of all or any future aptitudes ? It is 
neither in Allendorf that you find how many hours 
a man can sit in a caleche, or railway train. Will 
decimal fractions support his back, or strengthen his 
limpen vertebrae? What system of inquiry will 
declare whether the weary traveller will not oversleep 
himself, or smash the head of his postilion, or that of 
the railway guard, for not awakening him on the 
frontier, or at Hanover? How will you test readi¬ 
ness, endurance, courtesy, familiarity with Bradshaw, 
and Continental money exchanges? 

“ I think I have hit on a plan for this, suggested 
to me, I frankly own, by analysing upon the clinical 
system. 

“1 would lay out the Green Park as a map of 
Europe, marking out the boundaries of each nation, 
and stationing posts to represent capital cities. At 
certain frontiers I would station representatives of the 
different countries, as distinctly marked as I could 


DEDICATION. 


V 


procure them; that is to say, I would have a very 
polite Frenchman, a very rude and insolent Prussian, 
a sulky Belgium, a roguish Italian, and an extremely 
dirty Russian. Leicester-square could supply all. 

“ All being prepared, Pd start my candidate with 
half-a-dozen bags, simply saying—Vienna, calling at 
Stuttgardt and Turin—not a word more; and then Pd 
watch my man—how he’d cross the Channel; how 
he’d cajole Mossoo; and whether he made direct for 
the Rhine, or got entangled in Belgium railways; I 
should soon see how he dealt with the embarrassment 
of the road, and relished the had diet. And not alone 
would I test him by hardships arid hunger, fatigue and 
occasional upsets, but I would try his powers of self¬ 
resistance. I’d have him invited to ravishing orgies, 
and tempted in as many ways as St. Anthony, and all 
these after long privations. Then I’d have him kept 
many an hour under burning sun, or in a deep snow, 
or both alternately, to test his cerebral organization; 
and I’d try him with impure drinking water and 
damp sheets. And the man who came out strong 
after all these difficulties, I would accept as fully 
equal to his responsibilities; for it would not be alone 
his intellectuals that had been tested. The man’s 


VI 


DEDICATION. 


temper, his patience, his endurance, his physical 
strength, his resources in emergency, his courage, his 
courtesy, his readiness to meet difficulty, and last of 
all, his self-devotion in matters of official discipline, 
enabling him to combine with all the noble qualities 
of a man, the obedience of a soldier.” 

Thank you, Cornelius—a thousand thanks ! 


Petersham, Surrey, 

September, 1865 . 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER I. 

I resolve to publish my Experiences—How I was induced to do so— 
A visit to Eaglesthorp—My Host’s recollections of the Grand Tour 
of Europe.pp. 1—9 

CHAPTER II. 

My note-book—How it was made up—Life at Eaglesthorp—The read¬ 
ing of my journal—An incident on board a Cunard steamer—My 
appointment as Messenger—Ordered north—From Devonshire to 
Sweden—Swedish inns and travelling—Plelsingborg—Arrival in 
Stockholm.pp. 10—32 


CHAPTER III. 

In Stockholm—First impressions of the Swedish capital—Dining in 
Sweden.pp. 33—43 


CHAPTER IV. 

A Swedish cafe—Special attraction of female waiters and bar-keepers 
—A Swedish bath—Mud baths for rheumatism—How Marshal 
Bernadotte became Crown Prince of Sweden . . . pp. 44—63 

CHAPTER V. 

A journey eastward—Travelling to Turkey past and present—A 
Royal Messenger’s journey in 1849 from Belgrade to Constanti¬ 
nople —A ride across the Balkan—Difficulties and dangers of the 
journey—Opinion of Lord Palmerston on the subject—Important 
duties of Royal Messengers—How appointed—Importance of being 
a good linguist.PP* 64—90 







Vlll 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER VI. 

Constantinople—My impressions of it—The summer heat and winter 
dirt—The dearness of living and want of comfort—Steamboats 
on the Bosphorus — Pera — Hotels and boarding-houses — A 
Crimean general and a Pera hotel-keeper—Living at Therapia 
and Byukdere.pp. 91—199 


CHAPTER VII. 

Lady Craven’s description of the Sea of Marmora—Great scarcity 
of timber around the city of the Sultan—Constantinople a com¬ 
pound of magnificence and meanness—Habits of the Sultan— 
Appearance of Turkish soldiers—Women in Turkey—Necessity 
of sweeping reforms—Bad supply of water—The dog nuisance— 
The race-course—Importance of railways to Turkey—Anecdotes 
of life in Turkey—The various routes by which Constantinople 
may be visited ..pp. 110—150 


CHAPTER VIII. 

Exposition of the various routes through France and Italy to Turkey 
—The Mont Cenis journey via Turin, Milan, and Trieste—The 
Marseilles route via Leghorn, Genoa, and Messina—Steamboat 
treatment on the Mediterranean—Reflections . pp. 151—165 

CHAPTER IX. 

En route for the Crimea—A journey through the waters—Reach Mar¬ 
seilles and embark on a British -war steamer for Malta—Change 
to a French corvette and at last reach Constantinople 

pp. 166—181 

CHAPTER X. 

A journey to the city of the Czar—Bad arrangements for travelling in 
Russia—Want of road-side inns and hotels—From London to 
Berlin—Description of the Prussian capital—Difficulties of the 
remainder of the route.pp. 182—201 





CONTENTS. IS 

CHAPTER XI. 

Russian adventures—A sledge accident—I reach St. Petersburgli— 
An enraged Russian officer—Russian brutality—The emancipa¬ 
tion of the serfs—Law and punishment in Russia—The police— 
Servility of the Russian lower classes .... pp. 202—216 

CHAPTER XII. 

The emancipation of the serfs—True noblemen in Russia—The punish¬ 
ment of the knout—A noted murderer—Abject servility of the 
people.pp. 217—224 


CPIAPTER XIII. 

In St. Petersburg—Description of the city—The Russian higher 
classes—Railway travelling from Derlin to St. Petersburg—Fares 
and refreshment charges—St. Isaac’s church—The talkoulchi- 
rinnock, or loose market—The conflagration—Russian buying and 
selling.pp. 225-235 


CHAPTER XIY. 

Social pleasures of St. Petersburg—Dining a la Russe—Anecdotes of 
dining in Russia—The English parson and the ambassador— 
Hotels and restaurants — The English feeding-house — General 
remarks for the benefit of travellers visiting St. Petersburgli 

pp. 236-253 


CHAPTER XV. 

St. Petersburg—Palaces, picture galleries, and churches—Russian 
nobility—General use of French by the higher classes—State of 
information—The press—Low state of periodical literature 

pp. 254—258 


CHAPTER XVI. 

The lower classes of St. Petersburgh—A fete day—General drunken¬ 
ness of the people at the Grand Careme—General corruption of 
Russian officials—Illustrations of official life and situation— 
Remedy for the plundering of the Tchimonicks . pp. 259 2< 5 




X 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

From Berlin to Vienna—Advantages and disadvantages of a Roya 
Messenger’s life—Discomforts of a journey on a Herman railway 
in Winter—Arrival at tlie Austrian capital—The hotels— 
Manners of the Viennese—The gaiety of the city—Music and the 
opera—The lottery system—Public conveyances in Vienna—The 
museums, palaces, and picture galleries . . . pp. 276—290 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

From Vienna to Warsaw—Public feeling in Poland—The late attempted 
revolution—The atrocities of Mouravieff—De Berg, the Polish 
Viceroy—The route to Warsaw—Crossing the Polish frontier— 
Strict military supervision—State of the country—Description 
of Warsaw—Its ruined and depressed con dition—The hotels—■ 
Zamoyski’s palace—The pillage of the Russian soldiers 

pp. 291—308 

CHAPTER XIX. 

A visit to Spain—The road by way of Bordeaux and the Pyrenees— 
The railway stations and towns on the route . . pp. 309—316 

CHAPTER XX. 

The railway route from Paris to Madrid via Bayonne—Tours—Angou- 
leme and the valley of the Charente—Bordeaux—Bayonne—The 
passage of the mountains—Engineering difficulties of the line— 
Tolosa, Vittoria, Burgos, and Valladolid . . . pp. 317—328 

CHAPTER XXI. 

Madrid—The railway station, and means of conveyance to the city— 
Spaniards’ opinion of their capital—Badness of the hotels hitherto 
—Recent improvements—The grand Hotel de Paris—Spanish 
table d’hotes .pp. 329—336 


CHAPTER XXII. 

The Spanish capital—Mode of domestic living in Madrid—Provisions 
—Markets—Supplies of beef, mutton, poultry, and fish—Vege¬ 
tables and fruits—Wines—Water supply—Food of the common 
peopJe.pp. 337—347 




CONTENTS. 


xi 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

My voyage to America—The Persia steamer—The comforts on board 
—Arrival at New York—In Washington—The President—Public 
buildings — Railway travelling — Hotels — Theatres -— General 
society...pp. 348—392 


CHAPTER XXIY. 

A visit to Denmark—Departure during the Schleswig-Holstein war— 
The state of the country—How I reached it—From Berlin to 
Lubeck—On board a crowded steamer—A midnight alarm—• 
Swedish beefsteaks—A night of misery—Copenhagen—The 
hotels—The people—The Devil's Island—The houses and shops— 
^Street architecture—The harboui’—Danish hospitality—Sights of 
the Danish capital—Conclusion.pp. 393—404 






THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER 




OR, TRAVELS ON THE 

intir jJjtt-iirags of Cittrope 


CHAPTER I. 

I RESOLVE TO PUBLISH MY EXPERIENCES—IIOTV I WAS INDUCED 
TO DO SO—A VISIT TO EAGLESTIIORP—MY HOST’S RECOL¬ 
LECTIONS OF TIIE GRAND TOUR OF EUROPE. 

In these days, when the special experiences of men 
who have observed life under circumstances arising 
out of peculiar professional or business pursuits con¬ 
stitute so large a portion of our literature, I have 
thought that the adventures of a Queen’s Messenger 
would not fail to interest the minds, and command 
the patronage of the reading public. How I came to 
this conclusion, or why I entered upon my present 
labours, is of little consequence to discuss. Here is 
the result; and I trust that the reality as well as 
novelty of my narrative will recommend it to all who 
prefer the actualities to the romance of life. 

During one of the bright autumns of a past year, I 
snatched a brief season of pleasure and repose—as 

1 



2 


THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 


is the custom of Ministers of State, Archbishops, 
Archdeacons, and men of all ranks and professions— 
and went my way rejoicing, after a period of unusual 
fatigue, to visit kind friends and pleasant spots in my 
native land—to me, I am free to confess, ever more 
bright and fair than those I have met with during 
many years’ wandering over the continent of Europe. 

It was on a calm and. lovely evening of late August¬ 
time, just as the golden sun of summer was about to 
give place to the light of a brilliant harvest moon, 
which shone o’er the Bristol Channel so clearly, that 
the distant outlines of the Welsh mountains were 
distinctly defined, that I sat—the dinner being over 
—with an old friend of my father’s, as of my boy¬ 
hood’s days, enjoying his kind presence and a cool 
bottle of first-rate claret, and admiring from the open 
window the lovely wood-clad vale peculiar to North 
Devon, which sloped down to the very water’s edge 
in charming flower-clad terraces, interspersed with 
magnificent trees and evergreens; a home-scene of 
rare loveliness and order, seldom or never met with 
elsewhere in such variety of natural beauties. 

“ I see you are still fond of Eaglesthorp,” said my 
kind old friend, Mr. Seymer, “ to which you are, as 
ever, believe me, most welcome. But what an age it 
appears since you have been here ! While I have never 
Heft this, my woodland seclusion, save for a few days, 


VISIT TO EAGLESTHORP. 


3 


you have beeu constantly absent from Old England. 
Your playmates of other days, Harry and Edith, were 
rejoiced to know of your coming, and are longing to 
hear some of your adventures in foreign parts. Will 
you believe it ? the darlings, year after year, as each 
summer-time comes round, have been teasing their 
f dear old dad/ as they call me, to take them abroad. 
They tell me, the chits, that every one now, even 
the London shopkeepers, visit Paris, the Rhine, 
the Nile, the city of the Sultan, and the city of 
the Czar, and so forth; and that what with rail¬ 
ways and steamboats, it is quite as easy to go to the 
Continent as to the quarter-sessions at Taunton or 
Exeter. It may be so,—yet it was altogether another 
affair in my time. 

“ When I left Christ Church as a gentleman com¬ 
moner, just before Peel and Stanley (now Derby), and 
such men, gained their double firsts, to take the grand 
tour with a tutor, who revelled in ragouts and cafe 
au lait, while I was yearning for the hunting-field or 
Newmarket, cursing French cookery—that is to say, 
bad French cookery, and thinking, as I now do, that 
there is no place like home, travelling on the Continent 
was anything but pleasant, I assure you, as far as 1 
could judge, or advantageous, save in the imagination of 
poets and spinsters. In fact, my dear boy (dear boy 
I was, and hope ever to remain so to the squire), I 

1—2 


4 


THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 


do not recollect in France or Italy, Germany or else¬ 
where, any scene more beautiful than that which we 
now look upon.” 

Jl 

I endorsed this assertion with much energy and 
pride, adding, “There is nothing like Old England; and 
I assert it boldly, though I have travelled far and wide.” 

“ I am rejoiced to hear you say so,” he continued: 
“ still your own travels must be full of interest and 
incident—so the girls must not be disappointed.” 

“X have brought with me,” I replied, “a journal 
filled with rough notes taken by the wayside, which 
I will gladly intrust to them; meanwhile, may I ask 
of you a brief account of your journey, at least as far 
as Paris, at the period to which you have alluded, that 
we may compare the present with the past ?” 

“ You shall have it most willingly, in a few 
words, as far as recollection will assist me, for 
years have elapsed since the merry days when I was 
young. 

“ Well, here are the facts :— 

“ We started by mail for Dover, in the latter days 
of the month of June, with a quantity of useless and 
heavy luggage, including a double-barrel and its case; 
very useful, you will say, in the streets of Paris. My 
amiable tutor was safely ensconced inside, while I, as 
most young men did in those days, secured the box- 
seat, by the side of the driver. 


LA BELLE FRANCE. 


K 

O 


“ Arrived at Dover, after a good breakfast we 
went, with many others, on board a wretched sailing 
packet ; and the wind being foul and the sea rough, 
I therein suffered some six or eight hours of internal 
torture, the recollection of which is not effaced even at 
this hour. I verily believe that it caused me there¬ 
after to hate France and everything French, against 
common sense and good feeling. At last, however, 
we landed at Calais, the land of La Belle France, 
where, I confess (probably the horrid hours of sea¬ 
sickness I had endured affected my brain in some 
measure), I was as much astonished at hearing all 
the little boys and girls speaking French as was the 
alderman’s lady, on her first trip to the Continent. 
And what with the intolerable fuss at the Custom 
House, and the annoyance and nuisance of being 
hustled about by half a hundred hungry-looking fel¬ 
lows, asking, nay, almost taking one by force, to the 
Lion d’Or, or l’Aigle Noir, or Quillac’s, or Dessein’s, 
in, to me, a totally unknown language, I mentally 
vowed henceforth I would remain at home. Indeed, 
had not that horrid Channel, which was tossing and 
roaring against the pier, reminded me of that which 
I had so recently endured, I verily believe I should 
have returned at once to Eaglesthorp, which then as 
now was my home. To add to our discomfort, my 
worthy tutor, with many admirable qualities of mind 


6 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


and heart, had not precisely those of patience or hu¬ 
mility ; he imagined, like many others, that he could 
speak French. Now, I need scarcely say that speak¬ 
ing French, as it is spoken in England, and following 
up and replying to the rapid pronunciation of a French¬ 
man on his native soil, are matters wide apart, as 
verified by a lord mayor's daughter of other days, 
who, having been educated at some fashionable city 
school, wrote from Paris to her amiable mother, that 
the rapidity of verbiage and affected accentuation of 
the Parisians were totally opposed and unknown to 
the graceful purity of her school diction. 

“ * French she spak full fair and fetiselie. 

After ye schoole of Stratford atte Bowe, 

For French of Paris was to hire unknowe.’ 

Chaucer. 

However, by dint of squabbling in unknown tongues, 
and paying an unknown amount of francs, we suc¬ 
ceeded at last in getting comfortably lodged at 
Dessein's—I must admit in those days a most admir¬ 
able hotel, whether it now exists you can probably tell 
me; at ail events, for the time, my miseries were 
over, and having consoled ourselves with an excellent 
dinner, and slept on the softest of beds, my twenty 
years old courage returned, and I began to think that 
travelling on the Continent was not likely to prove 
the most disagreeable event of my life. 


IN PARIS. 


7 


“ The next morning, after listening for an hour to 
my clear companion's praises of the excellent cafe au 
lait, only to be had in France (certainly not to be had 
there now), and the delicious cutlets a* la somethinsr, 
on which we regaled ourselves, four horses were har¬ 
nessed to our newly-built travelling carriage, and we 
started for Paris, amidst cracking of whips, bows, and 
adieus from landlord and waiters. 

“ Now, doubtless, you who are so great a traveller, 
will either pronounce me an ass, or unfairly prejudiced, 
when I tell you that throughout the long journey, 
which lasted three days, I do not recollect aught, 
even as regards the beauty of the country, the cos¬ 
tume of the people, or the appearance of the towns 
and villages through which we passed, that caused me 
the slightest pleasure or excitement, save the Cathedral 
at Amiens, and the pigtails and ponderous hoots of 
our postillions. I recollect having disbursed more 
drinks or pour boires, or whatever they term the tips 
to these fellows, on account of their boots and pigtails, 
than I ever gave to English postboys for driving me 
twelve miles an hour over the best of highways; 
whereas, the jolting of our carriage on the pave, the 
springs of which I felt every moment were in danger; 
the muddy sides of the roads, into which at times we 
sank deep; the abominable espionage and constant 
demand for passports—as if two quiet English gentle- 


8 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


men, with a valet in the rumble of a carriage, which 
had cost three hundred guineas, travelling for their 
pleasure, were hastening to set Paris on fire—I must 
confess, greatly cooled the ardour inspired by Des- 
sein's comfortable hotel and good fare. 

“ But come, finish the bottle, while I relate the little 
I have still to say of my travels on the Continent. 

“ We arrived at length before the gates of St. Denis, 
in those days one of the most disagreeable Saints in the 
calendar, I take it; and, after much palaver and exami¬ 
nation of our passports, noses, and complexions, were 
admitted within the precincts of the French capital. 

“We drove, if I recollect rightly, to Beauvilliers' in 
the Bue de Bivoli, where the English milords were 
received in accordance with the appearance of their car¬ 
riage, their luggage, and their lacqueys; and during the 
month we remained there, we saw everything and did 
everything save visiting gambling-houses—which sinks 
of iniquity then abounded in Paris—and which were 
visited by all men of that period, who had the com¬ 
mand of time and money. Thence we journeyed on to 
Italy, passed over the Simplon and Mount Cenis, and 
Heaven knows where, till I found myself once more 
back at Eaglesthorp, just in time to prepare my horses 
for a month in Northamptonshire. And all I can tell 
you is, that the reminiscences of my grand tour were 
such that I very much fear they have induced me to 


DISCOMFORTS OF FOREIGN TRAVEL. 


9 


be rather more cruel than is my nature to my two 
dear girls. 

“ However, many of the discomforts of my foreign 
travel may be now erased from the memory of men 
younger than I am, and an account of some of your 
experiences may possibly induce me, ere I die, once 
more to cross the salt moat which divides us from 
what were then termed Johnny Crapauds, but who are 
now our faithful friends and allies—and I own to be 
one of those who believe in the sincerity of Napoleon 
towards England; so let us join the girls.” 


CHAPTER II. 


MY NOTE-BOOK—HOW IT WAS MADE UP—LIFE AT EAGLESTHORP 
—THE READING OF MY JOURNAL—AN INCIDENT ON BOARD 
A CUNARD STEAMER—MY APPOINTMENT AS MESSENGER— 
ORDERED NORTH—FROM DEVONSHIRE TO SWEDEN—SWEDISH 
INNS AND TRAVELLING — HELSINGBORG — ARRIVAL IN 
STOCKHOLM. 

My friend, the host of Eaglesthorp,knew well, not only 
many particulars of my past life, but also that I had 
kept jottings of the same in all their leading features. 
Before entering upon any consideration of my varied 
experiences, I may state, however, that throughout 
this record there does not occur the slightest political 
allusion, or a word, having reference to individuals, 
private or public, that can possibly cause pain or 
offence. 

The notes refer simply and truthfully to the journeys 
which from time to time I had undertaken, interspersed 
with anecdotes and valuable information which I can¬ 
not but think must be interesting even to those who 
may have travelled over much of the same ground, 
and valuable to the generation who have still those 


MY NOTE BOOK. 


11 


pleasures to come ; indeed, interesting to all who seek 
knowledge of people and places in foreign lands. 

No man, be he who he may, who holds the position 
of one of Her Majesty's Foreign Messengers, and who 
must, for the due performance of the constant and 
arduous duties entrusted to him, be acquainted with 
foreign languages, but must obtain much knowledge 
by the wayside, impracticable if not impossible to the 
holiday traveller. In fact, throughout the whole of 
his career he is day by day following up and adding to 
his never-ending education an increasing knowledge 
of people and places abroad, and, if he have his eyes 
and ears open, and his mouth discreetly closed, toge¬ 
ther with a courteous manner and a kind, obliging 
heart, opportunities must and do occur of seeing and 
learning what cannot be otherwise learnt, and which, 
indeed, do not present themselves to the general tra¬ 
veller. 

I have, of course, omitted many interesting de¬ 
tails of a private nature as connected with those still 
living and acting on the world's great theatre; but, 
at the same time, I have as carefully as possible de¬ 
lineated the various routes travelled over, naming 
even points of beauty, as also, here and there, alluded 
to means of conveyance and hotels, which may be 
useful to those who are desirous to visit the land of 


12 


THE QUEERS MESSENGER. 


To those who love not as I do the charming 
scenery of my fatherland, all I can say is this:—I 
have wandered on the hanks of the Bosphorus, I have 
sailed down the Neva, and lingered at Peterhoff and 
Petersburg, I have sculled on the Danube, and 
bathed in the Mincio. There is no European city, and 
scarce a mountain that I have not visited and rambled 
on; the Rhine is my familiar friend; the vales ol 
Switzerland and Italy have caused me admiration; the 
wood-clad mountains of Spain's northern provinces, 
and the dreary open lands of Castile have received 
my foot-prints ; Germany, Austria, Prussia, for weeks 
together have been my abiding place. I have been 
here, I have been there, as regards Europe, where’er 
my fellow-man has been—looked, lingered, and ad¬ 
mired to-day, and seen with distaste on the morrow, 
yet rarely with entire satisfaction. But a week’s 
ramble on the moors of Scotland or amid the wood¬ 
lands of western England, or a day’s fishing in its 
mountain streams, or a day’s gallop after a gallant pack 
of hounds, a walk across the fresh green hills of Old 
England, have ever left pleasant memories on my 
heart. 

During the peaceful and happy ten days I passed 
with my friends at Eaglesthorp, each evening I read 
to them the journal which had been intrusted to my 
care; and the travels and adventures it contained 


AN INCIDENT IN A CUNARD LINER. 


13 


appeared to interest them, and even the squire, so much, 
that I had reason to hope the girls would at last gain 
their desire to visit other lands, which, or I greatly 
err; would cause them to return more happy and con¬ 
tented to their own. I, for one, complain of no man 
whose feelings tend to this belief; indeed, when cross¬ 
ing to New York from Queenstown, in one of 
Cunard’s magnificent steamers, a little incident oc¬ 
curred which appeared to cause much annoyance to 
many on board. I own that it had not the same effect 
on me, untimely and vulgar as it was, however I might 
have appreciated the kind and courteous rebuke it 
called forth. The little liistoriette ran thus :— 

At the termination of the last dinner on board, it 
was generally the custom of one of the Yankee 
passengers to propose the health of the captain, justly 
—I may say, most justly—thanking him for his great 
and constant kindness and attention to all on board, 
without reference to country or position. For this 
duty, a New-Yorker was selected. Silence being 
obtained, he rose, and, through his nose, requested 
permission to drink a toast, which, being unanimously 
accorded, he stated in a very few words in the name of 
his countrymen, his desire to thank the captain first, and 
Almighty Providence afterwards, for having brought 
them safely across the Atlantic to the only country 
on earth worth living in: he made no reference to Eng- 


14 


THE QUEERS MESSENGER. 


land, not a word of the innumerable courtesies and kind¬ 
nesses which had there been shown them, and which 
he in particular was known to have received. America 
was his home; who had the right to gainsay him ? 

A dead silence followed—then the gallant captain 
stood up, and said, “ I thank you and your countrymen 
for drinking my health, and I have only to add, in 
the beautiful lines of my favourite poet, Goldsmith— 
“ c The naked negro, panting at the line, 

Boasts of his golden sands and sparkling wine. 

Basks in the glare, or stems the tepid wave, 

And thanks the gods for all the good they gave : 

Such is the patriot’s boast—where’er we roam. 

His first best country, ever is at home.’ ” 

And now, let those who will—the more the merrier— 
follow in the footsteps of my friend, bearing in mind 
that many of the journeys and anecdotes contained in 

the journal occurred long years syne. 

***** 

It was during a bitter morning of the winter of 18—, 
that I lay snug and warm between the sheets of a com¬ 
fortable four-poster, in one of the pleasant watering- 
places on the coast of South Devon. Devonia,though it 
was, and, generally speaking, is, mild of climate, even 
in midwinter the snow lay thick on the high lands, 
and the frost was intense, even to the borders of the 
sea. It was, in fact, such a morning as disposes any 
one not particularly engaged to take an extra snooze, 


ORDERED TO STOCKHOLM. 


15 


when the postman brought me an ominous-looking 
letter, bearing Her Majesty’s arms, which in a few 
words altered the whole -tenor of my previous life. 
Having read it, I placed it under my pillow, and, if I 
recollect rightly, after the lapse of so many years, 
slept soundly for two long hours. Whether reason 
acted wisely during this calm repose I know not, but 
scarcely had I roused myself, and doused myself in a 
cold bath—winter though it was—than I made up 
my mind to answer the letter in person, and to pro¬ 
ceed on the duties it proposed I should undertake, 
when and wheresoever they might call me. With 
this determination, I started that night by mail to 
London ; and, for the benefit of my young friends 
about to commence the battle of life, and who have 
the good sense to believe that honourable labour in 
any position brings with it health, ease of mind, and 
independence, let me assure them this habit of taking 
time by the forelock has ever stood my friend during 
my career as a Royal Messenger. 

Suffice it to say, that on my arrival in London, I 
forthwith presented myself to the writer of the letter 
to which I have alluded, who courteously welcomed me 
to the “ Agapemone,” as he jocosely termed the office 
of which he was the noble head, and then, without 
preface or delay, asked me when I should be prepared 
to commence my duties. 


1G 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


“At once/' I replied. 

“ That is well/' he said, smiling’. “ I fear, then, 
you will have to start to-morrow night for Petersburg 
or Stockholm. Neither the season nor the weather is 
precisely suited for a northern journey, but a rough 
beginning will make future duties more agreeable." 
This said, he shook me by the hand, and departed, for 
all I know to the contrary, to dine with the Queen, 
while I prepared for a trip to the North Pole, or 
northwards at least. 

As I lay me down that night, scarcely to sleep, with 
the knowledge that a new career in my life had com¬ 
menced. and that the frozen rivers of the North lav 
in the route I was about to take, on my way to 
countries and people I had never hitherto visited, I 
own my heart sank when I thought of my quiet home 
in the far west, its myrtles and magnolias, geraniums 
and fuchsias, even in mid-winter time, and the loved 
ones who had ministered to my comforts and my hap¬ 
piness, all of whom I had left scarce twenty-four 
hours previously. And now a new career was before 
me ; and, although many years have flown away since 
that bitter cold, but to me eventful night, be it only 
for a brief absence, when leaving my home the same 
feelings cluster on my heart and oppress me, which 
are the only drawbacks to the active, onerous, and at 
times laborious duties of a Royal Messenger. 


JOURNEY TO STOCKHOLM. 


17 


And now I am about to start fairly on my first 
journey. It is possible that five out of every hundred 
educated Englishmen one meets with in these days of 
locomotion may have travelled by precisely the same 
route which I took to reach my destination; at least 
I am not blind to the fact, that if you chance to hint in 
a railway carriage that you have visited Kamtsehatka, 
or Peru, or the moon, you invariably stumble on some 
one who has been there before you, and who knows 
far more of the place, the people, and the language 
than you do; at least he fancies he does, and is ready 
to assert the fact five to four or two to one, if you will 
have it. Therefore, not being, I hope, of a quarrel¬ 
some nature, and not disposed to bet on anything but 
the Derby or Leger, I make these notes for the benefit of 
those who have not visited the places of which I write. 

Ere I start, however, I am bold enough to offer a 
word or two of counsel to Young England: whether they 
will deem me impertinent for my intrusion, or profit by 
my experience to their own comfort, and add to their 
country’s honour by following it, is quite another 
question. I give it as I believe it, and as I have prac¬ 
tically experienced its truths. I once recollect having 
seen a rather clever caricature, which represented 
a stout English gentleman sitting alone in a Prussian 
first-class railway carriage, with spectacles on his nose 
and the Times newspaper before him, while a large 


o 


18 


THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 


bull-dog sat by his side, showing his teeth to the 
guard, who pops his head in at the window, and seeing 
the dog, turns to some lady passengers seeking places, 
and says, Reserve pour un milord Anglais.” The 
man possibly was a vulgar porkbutcher. 

Now, for years it has been my fate, or duty, or 
pleasure, or pain, or whatever you like to term it, to 
visit every capital in Europe,—from St. Petersburg to 
Madrid, Vienna to Constantinople. It is true that I 
am a tolerable linguist; yet while I cannot call to 
mind that I ever met with any but the most trivial 
annoyances, I have, on the other hand, experienced no 
end of kindness and courtesy—simply that the very 
moment I place my foot on the Continent I endeavour 
to forget that I am partial to bitter beer, boiled pork 
and peas pudding; in fact, I try—though at times I 
scarcely feel satisfied with foreign arrangements, and 
detest numerous foreign modes and manners—as far 
as possible to give myself up, physically and mentally, 
on the one hand to be half poisoned, and on the other 
to be sadly discomforted. The moment I cross the 
Channel, I make up my mind to allow a Frenchman 
to think that France is the finest country on earth, 
and Frenchmen alone fit to live; the Zouaves far su¬ 
perior to our guards, fusiliers,or marines; French cook¬ 
ing, whether at Philippe’s or at a cabaret, unequalled; 
that by washing in cold water matutinally I am liable 


MY JOURNEY NORTH. 


19 


to catch cold; that potatoes are only produced in 
Ireland; that soap is an expensive luxury; and that 
English apples are grown in hothouses. This is the 
rule I follow as regards all countries out of England, 
and thereby obtain considerable comfort and good-will, 
ofttimes much pleasure and information. 

I pray my readers meanwhile to bear in mind, that 

4 

when I first attained the honour of being one of her 
Majesty’s messengers, very many of the railways which 
now intersect the face of Europe existed only in specu¬ 
lative imagination; and that, with railways, the means 
and modes of foreign travel have materially altered. 
By-and-by I shall lead them to the city of the Czar 
and to the city of the Sultan, from Vienna to Madrid, 
and to various other places, describing those places as 
they are in the present day. 

And now let us visit Stockholm. Consider mv 

«/ 

having safely touched at Copenhagen, of which city 
we will talk together by-and-by. Enough that I 
left it by steamer one afternoon in the early part of 
March, 18—, and after touching at various places on 
the Danish coast, the last being Elsinore, crossed the 
Sound, and was landed at Helsingborg in Sweden. 

To do bare justice to the Custom-house authorities, 
they gave me no trouble, and I soon found myself at 
the small and only tolerable inn in the place, where I 
was shown into a room, the closeness of which was at 

2-2 


20 THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 

first almost stifling. It really seemed to swim in 
heat, a substantial fat heat, which got well hold of me 
the moment I entered, gathering round and about on 
every side, till I was brought to the very verge of 
suffocation, and held, as it were, tight in its folds. 
Forthwith I rushed to the window: imagine my 
horror when I found, after repeated and desperate 
endeavours to open it, that my efforts were in vain. 
It was double; the inner panes hermetically pasted 
and puttied up to keep out the cold and keep in the 
heat which was boiling me: not a single outlet was 
left, not one solitary pane to open and let in the cool¬ 
ing and purifying air of heaven. I felt absolutely 
aghast, when, sinking down on a chair, I reflected 
that the room had possibly not had an airing since 
the commencement of the long winter, that hundreds 
of persons had eaten, drunk, and smoked in it during 
that time, and that now it was my fate to do the same. 
The only possible mode, in fact, by which the room could 
be aired at all was by opening a round hole near the top 
of the stove, thus causing an intolerable draught. 

I confess to have felt not a little miserable at the 
prospect before me. Yet what was to be done ? I 
was no longer in Old England, with all its substantial 
comforts. Nothing remained but to resign myself 
calmly to my fate,—be suffocated, in fact, if necessary ; 
it was a part of my duty. 1 was, however, determined 


A SWEDISH BRICKA. 


21 


to quit my pestilential abode as soon as possible, and 
therefore set resolutely to work to consider how I— 
an Englishman, finding himself, by command of her 
Majesty, or her Majesty’s principal Secretary of State 
for 1 oreign Affairs (how little he thought of me !) in a 
country of the language of which I had not the most 
remote notion—was to accomplish a journey of some 
four hundred miles to the Swedish metropolis. More¬ 
over, I knew that I was bound to travel night and 
day; in fact, I felt that, after all, it was as well to be 
frozen or lost by the way as suffocated. Accordingly, 
I commenced operations for a forward movement, with 
the feeling that the sooner the journey was over, the 
better for a wretched traveller who was utterly ignorant 
of the Swedish tongue. 

Happily, Providence always aids those who endeavour 
to aid themselves. I discovered ere long that my land¬ 
lord’s son-in-law was a German;—what a prize in the 
lottery of life, under the circumstances !—moreover, 
the hotel porter—at least so he called himself, though 
I imagine his duties were light—was a most energetic 
Swede, who could make himself in a manner compre¬ 
hensible in that language. So, as a preliminary step, I 
requested him to show me the domicile of the governor, 
in order to obtain what is called a “ bricka,” which is 
simply an oblong piece of brass, on which is engraved 
the arms of Sweden, a number, and the words “ Curir 


22 THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 

Bricka,”—a valuable talisman peculiar to Sweden, 
at least such is my belief, though the Potorogna ot 
Bussia is somewhat similar. This treasure is of 
very great importance to a traveller; but it is rarely 
entrusted to any one save government officials or 
Crown messengers, native or foreign. 

The fortunate possessor is entitled to horses at any 
station before any one else, and at all hours, day or 
night. The peasants and proprietors at the posthouses 
pay the greatest respect to the bearer of the talismanic 
brass. Indeed, it is asserted that King Bernadotte, 
once wishing to reward some one who had done him a 
good service, granted him a “ bricka” for life, adding, 
that it was the most useful present he could make to 
him. Its power is represented to go so far as to 
enable the holder even to take the posthorses from 
another traveller’s carriage, if on arriving at a post- 
house he finds no others. # 

I found his Excellency the Commandant, a little 
plump and pursy old gentleman, at the house of a 
friend, where I believe he was enjoying his evening 
rubber. Being interrupted in the middle of it did 
not precisely please him; why should it ? Swedes are 

* I have since been informed that the peculiar advantages of 
the “ bricka” here named are rather the result of custom than 
sanctioned by law. The badge is nevertheless held in great 
respect and veneration by the people of the country, as I had 
reason to know in the course of my travels. 


THE LAND ROUTE TO STOCKHOLM. 


23 


like other people, and at first he made great objections 
to entrusting me With so precious a document. On 
my convincing him, however, that I was the right 
man in the right place, as far as my duty was con¬ 
cerned, if not for my own comfort, his heart softened, 
and taking me to his house, he offered me a “ grog,” 
and handed me the “ bricka,” which of course I 
received with bows and thanks; and having swallowed 
the grog, which was rather too weak, to the health of 
his Excellency, wished him “good night,” and returned 
to my stifling apartment. 

The next question was how to obtain a conveyance, 
and of what nature. After some discussion, it re¬ 
solved itself into my hiring or buying a carriage of 
the landlord. In order to decide the matter, we 
had a sort of little congress, consisting of the above- 
named gentleman, his son-in-law the porter, and my 
humble self. The odds were certainly against me, 
three to one. I do not think I should be much 
out did I say, by multiplying the interests of the 
three, that they stood at thirty to one. It was a 
long and serious conference; but eventually I suc¬ 
cumbed, and became the possessor of an antiquated 
britzska, in doubtful order and very heavy, furnished 
with some old ropes and leather dignified with the 
name of harness. 

It was then decided that I should send on a 


24 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


“ forbud/' or av ant-courier, to order horses for the 
first sixteen stages, as far as a place"called Jonkoping,* 
and the German set to work very civilly to fill up a 
number of little tickets, with the names of the various 
posthouses or stations, the hour at which the horses 
were to be ready at each, and so forth ; and at eight 
the same evening I had started my first “ forbud" in 
a diminutive peasant's cart of most peculiar construc¬ 
tion, drawn by one horse, and containing my port¬ 
manteau, well covered with matting, thus relieving 
my cumbrous vehicle of some portion of its weight. 
The “ forbud 93 was to proceed one stage, where he 
would be succeeded by another, and so on. 

Money was the next question, and I despatched 
the porter to the bank. He returned with a great 
amount of change, in notes of three and six dollars, 
and an abundance of small silver coin, besides a 
handful of copper, which is absolutely indispensable 
previous to commencing a journey in Sweden, as the 
poor postboy who drives you rarely possesses a half¬ 
penny. 

Supper now made its appearance, not before I 
required it, served by a smiling girl with white teeth 

* Jonkoping. not Roping, pronounced Cliuping, the u as in 
church. It means a place where things are bought,— a market- 
town in fact. Kopa is to buy ; Ivopman a merchant. Of course, 
the root is the same as in the German words kaufer, kauffmann; 
the English words cheapen, Cheapside, &c. 


A SWEDISH PIGA. 


25 


—the first specimen of the Swedish “ piga,” I had 
seen,—whose chief peculiarity consisted in a gay 
parti-coloured handkerchief, tied under the chin; 
and as I discussed the savoury messes—which long 
abstinence and a hearty appetite made palatable— 
in my suffocating bedroom, I questioned my German 
ally, who remained throughout the meal, most perse- 
veringly as to the value of the money, the cost of 
posting, and every other little particular which I 
judged might avail me en route , bribing him from 
time to time with one of my best cigars, which he 
smoked eagerly, always in my diabolical bedroom. 

Never was bribe more successful; by the mere 
force of tobacco I assailed, and took captive, and con¬ 
quered the German’s heart. I saw and knew my 
victory, and profited by it, attacking him again and 
again, and making him write down and pronounce 
the numbers and several leading words in Swedish 
for my guidance during the expected perils before 
me. 

At last we parted,—I with many thanks, he with one 
cigar between his lips and another in his pocket, and 
with many assurances of mutual consideration and 
esteem; while I, in preference to sighing for what I 
could not o^et, took that which fortune for the time 
had allotted (on the principle of “ Quand on n’a pas 
ce qu'on aime, il faut aimer ceux on a"”), crept in 


26 


THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER, 


between the bedclothes, and snatched a few hours of 
fitful, feverish sleep, such as can be imagined under 
the circumstances, and in so suffocating an atmo¬ 
sphere. 

Four a.m., however, had scarce ceased striking on 
the town clock of Helsingborg ere my trusty friend 
the porter aroused me. Without a moment’s hesi¬ 
tation, I bolted from my bed, endeavoured to 
open my smarting eyes, plunged my head into cold 
and refreshing water, and felt I was awake, dressed 
myself as speedily as possible in the thickest clothing, 
swallowed some bad coffee and pocketed some 
stale rusks, enveloped myself in as many warm wraps 
and coats as possible, encased my legs in a pair of long 
felt boots, the warmest of all leggings and feet-rugs, 
if there be such a word, and at 5 a.m., one memorable 
Friday morning, started fairly on my way for Stock¬ 
holm. 

The stages were generally from one to two Swedish 
miles long—a Swedish mile being about six and two- 
thirds English—which took about an hour. At each 
station I found my horses waiting, and no great time 
was lost. I wrote my name in the “ Dagbok,” stating 
where I had come from and whither I was going, as 
also the number of horses I employed, paid the post¬ 
boy, and was off again. 

The horses travelled well, especially the small ones. 


ON THE JROAD. 


27 


Down hill we drove at a great pace, which somewhat 
excited my nerves, considering the state of my ri?$fty 
old vehicle. But there was a sweet little cherub 
somewhere aloft who watched over me, and brought 
me through all my troubles safely. Moreover, I got 
used to it, after sliding down half a dozen slippery 
hills, as one does to many far more disagreeable 
things in the battle of life. 

Meanwhile, my “bricka”—I do not mean to pun— 
proved a brick indeed. When a postboy did not 
drive fast enough, I flourished it at him, shouting 
energetically in English, French, German, or all three 
mixed, putting in here and there a stray word of 
Swedish, culled from my limited stock. If this did 
not at once have the desired effect, I roared—ay, 
screamed—and waved the talisman frantically in the 
air, when the man or boy was effectually awed, and 
urged on his cattle with whip and voice. Subse¬ 
quently, when arriving at posthouses where my horses 
had not been ordered, it was astonishing to witness 
the alteration in the stupid face of a surly boor, who 
at first declared there were no horses to be had. 
When I pulled out the all-powerful badge he was 
alive in a moment, and, full of apologies for his 
mistake, rushed to the stables and produced fresh 
cattle without delay. Each horse generally costs 
about sevenpence a Swedish mile: but in some cases 


28 THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 

there is what is termed “ entreprenadethat is to 
say, the posting is contracted for under certain regula¬ 
tions, and then the expense is one-half more: it is 
also greater at all towns. 

The whole posting service is under Government. 
At each postliouse a book, called the “Dagbok,” is kept. 
This enumerates the number of horses which the post¬ 
master is bound to furnish. These the farmers in the 
neighbourhood are obliged to provide or contribute; 
and as very many of the farms are at some distance 
from the posthouse, it can easily be conceived that, 
when the horses have not been ordered beforehand, 
great delays must frequently occur, more especially 
in summer, when they are working all day in the fields. 

In the “Dagbok” there is also a column for any 
remarks or complaints which the traveller may have to 
make. This is inspected from time to time by the 
proper authorities, and fines are inflicted if the post¬ 
master is proved to have neglected his duty. 

The poor postboys I found very honest, and I had 
little trouble in paying them; for the distance between 
each station being inserted in the “Dagbok,” the 
amount due to them was easily calculated, and a 
very small sum in addition made them happy for the 
day. 

At first I travelled very fast. The novelty of my 
position, the few delays, the clear bright atmosphere— 


SWEDISH POSTING AND ROADS. 


29 


everything, in fact, contrived to make the hours slip 
rapidly away; hut in the middle of the dark night I 
came to a standstill, and for some time was completely 
ignorant as to why my horses were not ready, while I 
listened with a feeling almost of despair to a man, who, 
in answer to my broken sentences in various, and to 
him unknown tongues, assisted by signs, poured out 
a torrent of words in his native Swedish, of which I 
understood not a syllable. 

At last, however, I heard a cart come rattling up; 
something was brought out of the miserable posthouse, 
put on it, and away it went. The truth was out; I 
saw it all at once, for as the cart rolled away I recog¬ 
nised my belongings covered with matting, and I 
knew I had caught up my “ forbud,” or courier, not¬ 
withstanding a ten hours' start. He, doubtless, had 
been drinking his hours away, oblivious of duty, and 
regardless of the stranger whose money he was receiv¬ 
ing. I own that I felt for the time perfectly helpless. 
Complain I could not, for no one could understand me ; 
so I held my tongue and endured—a process to be 
recommended. Fresh horses, however, soon made 
their appearance, and away I went again, about noon 
on the following day arriving at Jonkbping, where I 
got some dinner, and picked up a German, to whom I 
gladly gave a seat in my carriage for a couple of stages, 
and who kindly acted as interpreter. 


30 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


The snow was now falling heavily, but we had some 
pleasant converse, and I was sorry when the little town 
of Grenna hove in sight and we bade each other adieu; 
and, after a cup of warm tea, I felt once more left 
entirely to my own devices. 'Night had come on, and 
at every station I had to rouse up the postmaster and 
wait for fresh horses. This always caused a delay of 
at least half an hour, during which time I generally 
dozed in my carriage or walked about outside—for the 
big room inside the posthouse was never very inviting. 
All the inmates appeared to me to sleep together in a 
sort of social promiscuous manner, which was neither 
pleasing to contemplate nor pleasant to the sense of 
smell. Man and wife would be in bed in one corner, 
children in another—sometimes all huddled together 
—servants in another; the apartment hermetically 
sealed, of course,—very close and very disagreeable. 

Now and then I did go in and rouse them a little, 
in order to induce them, in like manner, to rouse their 
people; when the postmaster would get out of bed, 
followed by his wife, who proceeded to her toilette 
in the most unconcerned manner in my presence. 
And thus I travelled onwards, consoling myself with, 
the certainty that at all events I was approaching 
nearer and nearer to Stockholm, and that a little more 
perseverance would bring me to my goal. 

The road for the first day had been sandy; the 


I REACH STOCKHOLM. 


31 


scenery not unlike that of the south of Ireland—the 
county of Cork for instance,—fields divided by hedges 
or walls. As I advanced, however, into the heart of 
the country, huge forests of pine and fir had to be 
traversed. The roads for the most part became fear¬ 
fully deep and muddy during the day, when it thawed ; 
whereas at night they were frozen again, and slippery 
and dangerous, and very cold. I was, however, toler¬ 
ably wrapped up, and suffered little. Moreover, I had 
well provisioned myself—an indispensable precaution 
for travellers in Sweden, as there are very few places 
where anything eatable is to be obtained. But at 
length my troubles were lessened, for on the afternoon of 
Monday, at five p.m., I reached the capital of Sweden, 
having left Helsingborg on the Friday previous, 
and performed the journey in eighty-three hours. It 
appears a long time in these days of railway flights ; 
but when all circumstances are considered, it is not 
marvellous. Towards the end of the journey I confess 
to have felt tired and subdued; in fact, I experienced 
the sensations of a far superior man—one Sterne— 
who justly remarks, “ There is one sweet lenitive at 
least for evils, which nature holds out to us.” So I 
took it kindly, and fell asleep, and the first word 
which roused me was Stockholm. Indeed, I was so 
fast asleep that the postboy had to shake me, when I 
awoke with a start, in complete ignorance of where I 


32 THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 

was, how I had come, or what I had to do. But, 
arrived in Stockholm, an English wash and a good 
dinner convinced me I had little to complain of, and I 
awoke on the following morning as a giant refreshed, 
and ready to do battle with the world 


CHAPTER III. 


IN STOCKHOLM—FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF TIIE SWEDISH CAPITAL 

—DINING IN SWEDEN. 

My first day in Stockholm, with the reminiscences of 
my journey then fresh in my memory, was sufficiently 
attractive. Having presented my credentials, I strolled 
about the town, and was introduced to several Swedes. 
We take off our hats ceremoniously and bow to each 
other twice; we then come to close quarters and shake 
hands, upon which the following colloquy ensues :— 

The Swede (in French ).—“I am charmed to make 
your acquaintance. I conclude you are just arrived.” 

Myself .—“ Since yesterday, Monsieur le Comte.” 
(This is the safest title to give them, for they most of 
them appear to possess it; if they have not, they are 
flattered.) 

The Swede .—“ Indeed! What do you think of 
Sweden?” 

Now this tolerably naive question somewhat stag¬ 
gered me at first, as I could only wonder how I, an 
utter stranger to the country, was to judge whether 
I liked it or not. I own I felt confused, and mumbled 

3 


34 


THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 


out something about my not having been long enough 
in Sweden to venture to express an opinion; adding 
that the situation of Stockholm struck me as very 
char mins 1 . The conversation then continues. 

The Swede .—“Did you come here by land, sir?” 

Myself .—“ Yes, Monsieur le Comte.” 

The Swede. —“Then, sir, your journey must have 
been most fatiguing.” 

How many times in the course of the first few da}'s of 
my visit in Stockholm was I asked if my journey had 
not been most painful and fatiguing! The question 
was universal, and by degrees I prepared a regular 
answer to it, and upon its being put to me, imme¬ 
diately launched into a most vivid description of all 
my adventures, troubles, and perplexities* 

On the conversation languishing, we shake hands 
again, and assure each other simultaneously that we 
are charmed to have made each other’s acquaintance, 
take off our hats with a prodigious bow, and depart 
on our several ways. 

The day was fortunately very favourable, clear and 
bright, a beautiful blue sky overhead, fresh, but not 
too cold, with a feeling of dryness and pureness of 
atmosphere which made my steps light and exhila¬ 
rated my feelings, driving away all discontent or 
spleen, leaving me in love with the place at first sight. 
There was no withstanding it; the novelt}'- of the 


IMPRESSIONS OF STOCKHOLM. 


35 


■scene, the comfort I experienced in having success¬ 
fully accomplished a long and tedious journey—every¬ 
thing, in fact, conspired to put me in the highest 
spirits. The situation of Stockholm is certainly 
striking. The noble palace, a stately edifice, which 
rises up in its simple and substantial grandeur above 
all other objects, the waters of the Baltic, and the 
Malar lake intersecting the city, and cutting it up 
into islands; the shipping, the suburbs of the south 
crowning the distance, the costume of the honest 
Dalecarlians, and the good humoured, bright faces of 
the “ pigas,” or servant girls, with their black hand¬ 
kerchiefs tastefully enveloping their heads. What 
can I say more? Stockholm has been compared to 
Venice. It is not Venice, but has a distinctive cha¬ 
racter of its own, difficult to compare with any other 
place. 

I confess that it appeared so strange, so new, so 
really beautiful, that before long I was unconsciously 
answering the invariable question of my new acquaint¬ 
ances with enthusiasm, declaring that I already found 
Sweden charming, with a generous heartiness that 
rejoiced their patriotic hearts. 

The question, “ Where shall I dine ?” is one of the 
most important in the life of man ; and in Sweden 
dinner is a very serious undertaking. You are asked 
to dine at the house of a friend, most probably at 


i 


36 


THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 


four o’clock, always verbally; so that if you live in 
Stockholm, and go much into society, it is absolutely 
necessary for your servant or yourself—or, better still, 
both—to keep a list of your engagements. There is, 
strange to say, hardly ever a mistake made, and cer¬ 
tainly much time is saved from not having to answer 
innumerable notes. A man comes round with the list, 
generally early in the morning—I scarcely recollect at 
what hour, but I confess to having received most of 
my invitations in bed, and to have been roused out of 
more than one sleep by a summons to a gastronomical 
treat. If you are of the elite and fortunate, you may 
open your eyes to behold a gorgeous Court footman 
with an immense plume, who summons you to a palace 
“ feed,” to use a vulgar term. He penetrates into 
your bedroom, draws himself up in military style, 
bawls the invitation into your ear, and insists on an 
answer. If you possess a servant, however, and he is 
a sharp fellow, he never allows any profane tread upon 
such holy ground or planks, but answers for you, ac¬ 
cording to his knowledge of your engagements, of 
which he ought to be well informed. 

The invitations are, as I have said, generally for 
four o’clock, and punctually at four you make your 
appearance—in a white tie, even should there be no 
ladies. You enter the house, leave your great-coat, 
and, if winter, your goloshes and various wraps, in 


DINING IN STOCKHOLM. 


37 


the “ Tambur,” or anteroom ; and, having" put on your 
most ceremonious looks, proceed through several rooms, 
unannounced, till you discover your host, before whom 
you draw up with dignity and fitting gravity, make 
two bows, and shake hands. Recollect that one in¬ 
clination is not sufficient; and attention to these little 
particulars is very important. If there is a hostess, 
you parade up to her and make two similar bows, 
always preserving your gravity as aforesaid. You then 
retire, and are at liberty to seek your friends, with 
whom you go through the same ceremony. 

If the clock has struck four before you arrive, you 
will infallibly be the last; for the Swedes are exceed¬ 
ingly, and I say laudably, punctual at dinner. I would 
they were so on all other occasions. Indeed, you may 
make a pretty sure guess as to where there is going 
to be an entertainment, when you see several hungry 
individuals in white neckcloths and yellow kid gloves 
wandering up and down outside a house a few minutes 
before four, looking at their watches with evident 
anxiety. On the church clock striking its first stroke 
they are gone as if by magic. Most of the guests 
are decorated, although the dinner may not be one of 
ceremony. However, all dinners are more or less so 
in Stockholm,—I mean, at all events, not given on 
any extraordinary or official occasions. The natives 
must sport their ribbons and their stars, especially the 


38 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGEE. 


latter. Having received much courtesy, I felt com¬ 
pelled to ask a few men to dinner at a tavern, supposed 
to be a sort of “ Philippe/'* when one of the com¬ 
pany—certainly a person of rank and consideration— 
honoured me with his presence, and, moreover, quite 
confounded me by appearing with a great star on his 
manly breast, or rather, his tail-coat. It is maliciously 
whispered that some sleep in them. And why should 
they not ? The miser puts his cherished bag of gold 
under his pillow; why should not the Swedish swell 
take his precious “ north star," if he have no wife, to 
his downy couch ? Touching decorations, I have fre¬ 
quently heard a trifling but graphic tale having refer¬ 
ence to the profuse distribution of the Legion d’honneur. 
It ran thus :—A beautiful little English girl who was 
crossing the Channel with her mother, having received 
much kind attention from a French gentleman on 
board, was reproached for not having thanked the 
Frenchman on parting. “ But he is not a Frenchman," 
said the child. “ Yes, he is," replied the mother. 
“ No," said the child; <c all Frenchmen have red 
ribbons in their coats. He had none." If such was 
the girl's reply in the years these notes were written, 
what would it be now, when every other man you 
meet is decorated ? To return, however, to my dinner. 

The company being duly assembled, the servant 


* A. Parisian restaurant justly celebrated. 


TABLE ETIQUETTE. 


39 


comes in with a tray, on which are small plates con¬ 
taining caviare, sardines, and other small fish, hits of 
raw salmon, cheese, &c., butter and bread in slices. 
This servant is closely followed by another with a 
number of glasses and a bottle of u branvin,” or 
Swedish brandy. The guests first apply themselves 
to the edibles, afterwards tossing off a glass of brandy. 
The eating, to an English eye, is, I must confess, 
rather a dirty business. Forgive me, ye Swedish 
gentlemen who live at home at ease ! There is a fork 
to each plate handed round, and< one guest after an¬ 
other does not hesitate to plunge the same fork into a 
sandwich, for example, convey it to his mouth, and 
then put it back again on the plate, ready for the 
next customer, who uses it without scruple in his turn, 
and, to complete the business, probably wipes his 
mouth on the same napkin as his predecessor. There 
are several napkins folded up and placed one upon the 
top of the other on the tray, and the uppermost one 
generally serves several people, each of whom care¬ 
fully refolds and replaces it after having made use of it. 

For my own part, unless I could by dexterous jug¬ 
gling or some great piece of luck secure a fork to 
myself, I eschewed the whole concern ; nor did I like 
using the same glass for my sips of branvin as that 
out of which my neighbour, a very good fellow no 
doubt, had just been drinking. All this may be pre- 


40 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


judice; but not having been brought up to it, it re¬ 
quires some time and consideration to attain the habit. 
However, barring these little drawbacks, the custom 
is a grateful one, and I confess to having enjoyed 
myself in a decent manner. My bit of bread and 
caviare was washed down with a mouthful of Swedish 
brandy. This brandy is not strong; it is of a white 
colour, and tastes like a liqueur. Every one having 
partaken or not of the above, dinner is announced, 
when the two principal guests are requested by the host 
to lead the way—I am supposing this to be a bachelor 
party—and the others fall in, two by two, and generally 
arm-in-arm, with a good deal of serious coquetting as 
to the order of procession. The guests seat them¬ 
selves. Before each Is a fearful array of glasses, sig¬ 
nificant of the work to be done; and in addition to a 
piece of ordinary bread, there is usually a thin slice 
or two of coarse rye bread, or rather biscuit, which is 
greedily attacked by the Swedes during the pauses of 
practical gastronomy, and which to my taste is not 
disagreeable. 

The dinner is gorgeous, the dishes numerous, and 
the cuisine intended to be French, but literally a very 
bad imitation, the food being mostly of a heavy, coarse, 
indigestible nature, with thick brown sauces of various 
hues, all with a dash of sugar. These are met with 
universally, and are to be as universally avoided. 


THE SWEDISH DINNER. 


41 


Every male and female eats with the knife, which I 
conclude accounts for the fact of all the knives in 
Sweden being so uncommonly blunt. The wines are 
of great variety, and mostly of good quality, especi¬ 
ally the Bordeaux. After the soup, sherry and port 
are handed round; then follows a dish of smoked sal¬ 
mon, poached eggs on spinach; sherry again; then 
boiled fish and Chateau Margaux; then comes the 
beef, cut in huge slices, and made dishes, with various 
kinds of champagne, generally of a sweet kind, and 
Bordeaux ; and after, the sweets. 

The Swedes seem generally to prefer port wine, 
which is certainly at variance with our ideas. In addi¬ 
tion to the above, Madeira is occasionally produced, and 
at the end of dinner some sweet wine. In fact, both 
appetite and ardour are required, to say nothing of 
digestion. An alderman once wished for a throat a 
mile long, and every inch a palate; such a throat 
would be useful at Stockholm. 

The drinking is prodigious,—in all respects equal to, 
if not surpassing, the eating. After each course the 
selected servant, whose sole business it is to ply the 
guests with wine, goes round the table and fills every 
glass he can; he is always on the watch, and no sooner 
does he behold an empty glass than he pounces on it 
like an eagle and fills it to the brim, almost before you 
have set it down. 


42 


THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 


Every one drinks with every one else, and the 
process of doing so is singular. Your vis-a-vis looks 
at the army of glasses before him, singles out his 
particular fancy, grasps it, and then, fixing you with 
his eye, calls out your name, or title if you have one, 
with a bow and a significant movement of the glass. 
Peeling honoured, you respond with a deeper bow, 
grasp your tumbler, which should contain the same 
wine as his; both glasses are then raised simultane¬ 
ously and emptied; you then bow once more, and 
inclining the glasses towards each other with a know¬ 
ing sort of jerk, only to be learnt by practice, show 
that you have drained them to the last drop. 

This is cle rigiieur, and a Swede feels himself in¬ 
sulted if you omit it; of course it is not necessary that 
you should have more in your glass than you choose. 

As a general rule, however, you are expected to ask 
every one in return who has challenged you, except 
your host, who drinks wine with each guest, but is 
not required to empty his glass on each occasion; 
and the bold guest who dares to challenge him in 
return is bound by Swedish custom, which is law, to 
swallow twelve glasses of wine as a punishment. 

"W hether that social penalty would be a punish¬ 
ment to most Swedes is quite another question,— 
“ evil be to him who evil thinks.” I cannot venture 
to answer it. 


AFTER DINNER. 


43 


When dinner is over, the last glass of wine is emptied 
by the guests in honour of the Amphitryon, who 
responds, bows, and smiles his acknowledgments. If 
there is a hostess, she is of course included; and then 
the company rise from the table and return to the 
other rooms. Your true Swede then goes up to the 
master of the house, makes a formal bow, probably 
shakes hands, and returns thanks for the feast. Coffee 
and liqueurs are then brought in, and the guests 
retire very shortly after; though the business—for a 
heavy business it really is—is often prolonged inde¬ 
finitely with sweet punch, cigars, &c., in the host’s 
private room. 

But on this, and its consequences, I will draw a 
curtain ; and thus terminates a Swedish dinner. 

There is still, however, one thing to be observed: 
the first time you see your host after the entertain¬ 
ment, you are expected to make him a couple of low 
bows, shake him by the hand, greeting him with the 
words, “ Tak for sistliterally meaning, “ Thank 
you for the last,”—that is to say, for the dinner he 
gave you the last time you saw each other ; and within 
the week you are expected to call at the house. 


CHAPTER IY. 


A SWEDISH CAFE—SPECIAL ATTRACTION OF FEMALE WAITERS 
AND BAR KEEPERS—A SWEDISH BATH—MUD BATIIS FOR 
RHEUMATISM—HOW MARSHAL BERNADOTTE BECAME CROWN 
PRINCE OF SWEDEN. 

A Swedish cafe, which is by no means the most un¬ 
interesting place of resort in Stockholm, may be thus 
simply described:—A room containing dirty newspapers; 
a floor uncomfortable to look at and to walk on, from 
the immoderate habit of spitting indulged in by the 
majority of the guests; small tables, placed here and 
there conveniently by sofas and chairs; a counter in 
front of them, on which are plates and glass dishes, 
containing various descriptions of cakes and sweets— 
the Swedes being peculiarly fond of anything well 
saturated with sugar; tumblers filled with cigars, a 
tin jug with warm water, a bottle of cold water, a 
snuff-box, &c.; and against the wall, behind the 
counter, a number of shelves on which are ranged 
suspicious-looking bottles, containing all sorts of 
liqueurs, spirits, and wine; groups of glasses of various 


A SWEDISH CAFE. 


45 


sizes and shapes; sweetmeats and bonbons in glass 
vases, and so forth. 

Between the counter and the wall stand the presid¬ 
ing goddesses, who communicate the orders to the 
kitchen through a trap-door in the wall. They are 
almost sure to be a couple of good-looking girls, 
elegantly dressed, and with manners fit for a duchess. 
I say it unreservedly, a duchess; and I mean it. It 
is a curious fact, and no less curious than true, that 
these same “ Skank Mamseller/* as they are called, 
have as good manners as any in the land—I had 
almost said better; and many who pride themselves 
on their aristocracy in our own country might take 
a lesson from them. 

They are, in fact, one among the many peculiarities 
of Sweden. They are always in motion ; serving now 
this guest, now that; having a good word and a kind 
look for each. Being familiarly treated by most of the 
habitues of the cafe, or Schweizeri, as it is usually 
called, they are nevertheless always in their place, and 
always ready and obliging. Indeed, the popularity and 
the fashion of the establishment alike depend on them. 

If they are fair to look on, and good-tempered, 
with a proper amount of vivacity and small talk, their 
fame is soon made known throughout the town. The 
guards hear of it, and come in troops; the lieutenants, 
whose number is legion, the men in public offices. 


46 


THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 


the strangers, the merchants, the Jews, all flock to 
the rendezvous, and the lucky landlord makes his 
fortune. 

Should some chance remove these fair damsels, and 
they be replaced by others less charming, the cafe is 
at once deserted, and the capricious Stockholmers 
transfer their favours to some other establishment 
where the attendants are more fascinating—the articles 
of consumption being precisely the same. 

After the theatre, or say between nine and eleven, 
the cafe is probably fullest; then every little table is 
occupied. At one, four or five men are seated, all 
talking at once. They are officers of the guards, one 
of them probably in uniform. All of them are smoking 
vigorously; and on a tray upon the table before them 
are a number of small tumblers, about the size of jelly 
glasses, filled with the favourite beverage of the day, 
called “tuting.” This means simply two things— 
that is to say, brandy and hot water—grog, in fact ; 
generally half of each, the brandy for choice, and 
sweetened immoderately. Nowthe conversation waxeth 
loud, and the brave guardsmen become eager. Now 
one of them seizes his (t tilting,” and the rest are not 
slow to follow his example; they raise their tumblers 
simultaneously, clink them together, swallow the con¬ 
tents at a gulp, and with a motion of their arms 
towards each other, indicative of there being no liquor 


CUSTOMS AT THE CAF£. 


47 


left inside, down go the tumblers again with a clash 
upon the tray. 

At another table, in solitary magnificence, with the 
evening paper before him, discussing his beefsteak and 
poached eggs, and his pint bottle of beer, sits a count 
of the land—a man of exalted rank. He speaks to 
few, but answers each person’s humble bow with great 
courtesy; he eats his supper and reads his paper with 
manifest pleasure, pays his modest bill, and departs. 
At a third table are two men with their simple supper 
before them—some slices of cold tongue on a small 
glass plate, slices of bread and pats of butter on others; 
no separate plates for themselves—nor are such re¬ 
quired ; for these gentlemen, according to the custom 
of the country, adopt the less artificial method of 
helping themselves to butter with their own knives, 
spreading it on a piece of bread, applying a slice of 
tongue, and eating the whole as a sandwich, and they 
wash it all down with Swedish “ Bavarian” beer. 
The cost is trifling—probably not an English shilling. 
The guests are in general orderly enough; that is, 
except harmless familiarities with two fair damsels at 
the counter; but there is rarely any great breach of 
decorum unless a party of men stay late over their 
<mps and get noisy. To fresh comers the house is 
shut at eleven, but those who have arrived before can 
manage to stay, and a jovial lot will often assemble. 


48 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


about the above-named hour, round a bowl of spirituous 
contents, and drink and sing and shout till the bowl 
is empty, when they separate with tottering steps and 
confused mien to their several homes, to sleep off their 
debauch. To speak frankly, however, these cafes are 
by no means to be neglected by the stranger desirous 
to learn something of the modes and manners of a 
people among whom he finds himself; and it is en¬ 
tirely his own fault if he does not meet therein every 
courtesy and attention. 

Washing, I fear, for the mere sake of matutinal 
refreshment, is little understood in its practical illus¬ 
trations beyond the white cliffs of perfule Albion . 
Young England goes from the cradle to the bath or 
tub each morning, alike for health and refreshment 
as well as cleanliness; and the habit thus early com¬ 
menced is for the most part followed up throughout 
life. This is not the case on the Continent, where 
water, for the most part, is required more to drink 
than to wash in ; whereas soap is an expensive luxury, 
not, as in England, a cheap necessity of daily, nay, 
hourly consumption. Almost all the cities of Europe 
have their public baths; but, as I have said, they are 
used for specific purposes, not as every-day luxuries. 
We have the Turkish baths, and the German baths, 
and sulphur baths, &c.; whereas in Sweden there are 
several washing-places where the patient undergoes a 


A SWEDISH BATH. 


49 


peculiar, not to say disgusting, operation. He is pro¬ 
bably afflicted with rheumatism, a disease prevalent 
throughout the country. The season is quite over in 
merry Stockholm ; all his friends have left—some for 
their country seats, others for France, for Carlsbad, 
Hamburg, and other German spas where Swedes do 
most congregate; for, be it observed, Swedes when 
away from home associate and stick together, as if 
they were afraid of other people, and not quite sure as 
to whether they are quite as advanced in the arts of 
civilization and in European manners as the rest of the 
society they meet—a laudable modesty, if it be so ; 
not that I assert that it is, but they act as if such 
were their opinion on the subject. I rather fancy it 
arises out of the same pride and jealousy, with a con¬ 
sciousness of being in a backward state, which causes 
them somewhat to avoid resident foreigners in Stock¬ 
holm. But I am forgetting my rheumatic friend, 
who, leaving the capital, journeys down to one of the 
little modern villages on the desolate western coast, 
which has been raised to the degree of a watering- 
place. Here he finds a room ready for him, having 
taken care to write beforehand to the doctor of the 
place to engage it; and here he establishes himself in 
the month of June, for a certain number of weeks, to 
be cured of his aches and pains. 

He first secures a fixed hour at one of the bathing- 

4 


50 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 

houses, and commences the operation of being* mudded 
on the following day. Having repaired to the bath¬ 
house he finds a room, and an old woman who receives 
him with a benignant smile: she is selected as his 
attendant, his female valet in fact. They enter the 
room, she shuts the door and begins forthwith to 
help him to undress; the operation is proceeded with 
until he is reduced to the state in which he was 
born. 

One would imagine that the mud must already have 
had some peculiar effect, for although completely bereft 
of his clothes—more naked, in fact, than a wild Indian— 
no blush of modesty flushes the patient's cheeks; he 
appears unconscious of his denuded state—he shows no 
sign of shame—his old woman and he look placidly at 
one another, and the second act of the comedy com¬ 
mences. In each room is a small bucket full of some 
dark-looking liquid, more like paint than anything* 
else I can think of; a sort of half-liquid, half-solid, 
sticky, yet soft material, which is, in fact, a species of 
mud. It is found near the sea-shore, is collected and 
refined—particles of shells and so forth being carefully 
extracted—and is considered admirably efficacious for 
curing Swedish rheumatism. What this mud consists 
of I cannot truly say, but sulphur is certainly one of 
its ingredients. 

o 

The patient then sits down; the old woman ap- 


MUDDINGr THE PATIENT. 


51 


proaches him with the mud bucket, and sets to work 
energetically to plaster him over and rub him with 
the slimy paint. I must here observe that these old 
women, who have thorough practice, are said to pos¬ 
sess a very delicate touch, and to rub in the most 
artistic and soothing way. Yet I scarcely think I 
could submit to be smeared over with such nastiness. 
It may be clean mud, and doubtless it is, if such it can 
be; yet it is still mud, and as such I wash my hands 
of it;—a troublesome undertaking, I fancy, for I am 
told it sticks to the person most tenaciously. 

After the sufferer has been rubbed and plastered a 
sufficient time, the aged female directs a douche upon 
his stomach, which routs the mud with great slaughter, 
and finally he gets into a warm bath of sea-water, 
upon emerging from which he is again assisted in his 
toilet by his aged female attendant aforesaid. 

To those who merely require salt-water baths, 
wooden structures called “ bassins” are placed in the 
sea. These are square in form, with a dressing-room 
at each end : the space enclosed is hardly large enough 
to swim about in comfortably. 

The ladies have, of course, their separate “ bassins,” 
and, with that innocence and freedom from affectation 
which distinguish them, they altogether disdain the 
fashionable but silly costume which must necessarily 
destroy half the freshness of the bath, and plunge 

4—2 


THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 


K.-) 

O 

into the briny water clothed in their own virtue— 
mingling together and sporting about like so many 
nymphs or sea-goddesses. 

The male sex are of course excluded from all view 
of these interesting splashings, and fun, and so forth. 
So far Swedish simplicity does not go. I am, there¬ 
fore, unable to give any account of the scene—doubt¬ 
less very charming. 

Ere I quit the subject of Sweden, I would desire to 
add some interesting details not generally known as 
to the fact of how Marshal Bernadotte became Crown 
Prince of that kingdom. The story is simple, but 
interesting, the crown having been obtained through 
the means of a young lieutenant. In Sweden, how¬ 
ever, the lieutenants are important people, more im¬ 
portant than the captains, who rarely partake in the 
amusement of dancing, a most serious item in a 
Swedish military education; for many who can do 
nothing else can dance, and are consequently the de¬ 
light of the fair frokens, the nobly born damsels of 
society; indeed, I have heard tell of a froken who 
loudly declared that one Swedish lieutenant was better 
than a hundred young diplomats, wherein I dare say 
she was right as far as she was individually concerned : 
yet I doubt if all were of the same opinion. Mean¬ 
while I would observe, that any man of a certain age, 
not being a lieutenant, is, generally speaking, a royal 


HISTORIC DETAILS. 


53 


secretary,—a rank or title awarded to all clerks in 
Government offices; and indeed, I fancy, to any clerk 
in any office whatever. Now should the individual 
not belong to either of the above-mentioned categories, 
he is merely a “ a brukspatron,” which literally means 
u owner of a forge,” and includes all country gentle¬ 
men, farmers, and such like, who have not any other 
title wherewith to bless themselves; and in right of 
their name, these forge owners wear a uniform, con¬ 
sisting of an evening coat with a braided velvet collar, 
and a dress sword, and thus they present themselves 
at Court. 

But to my tale. The Swedish people, having de¬ 
posed their King Gustavus IV., who was an obstinate 
and religious madman, and having declared that neither 
he nor his descendants should reign in the land, put on 
the throne his uncle Charles, 13th of the name, who was 
an old man and childless; and then they looked about for 
a successor to their Charles in other lands. First the}^ 
selected one Prince of Augustenburg, who was of a 
sickly habit and soon died—some said by poison, but 
that was mere malice—and the succession was again 
open. 

The old King was desirous to select the brother of 
the dead Prince, Duke of Augustenburg, and in the 
month of June, 1810, he sent couriers to Paris, to 
sound the great Emperor, whom he wished to please. 


54 


THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 


One of these couriers was my lieutenant, by name and 
title Baron Otto Morner. 

He was a little grotesque man, of insignificant 
figure and common address; but his soul was great, 
for was he not a Swedish lieutenant? Arrived in 
Paris, with big ideas crowding on his mind, he sought 
out one La Pie, a young officer whom he had known in 
former times, and to him related the great enthusiasm 
which existed in Sweden for Napoleon I., expressing 
his belief that the whole nation placed their hopes in 
him, and would receive with open mouths and grate¬ 
ful hearts whomsoever that mighty monarch should 
be pleased to select as their future King. And who 
better fitted, added he, to fill that throne than one of 
his illustrious generals ? These the young officer 
straightway passed in review, and talked the matter 
fully over; and the lot fell upon Bernadotte, Prince 
of Ponte Corvo. 

But how to proceed ? how to gain the favour of 
Napoleon for this his most independent general, who, 
if selected, would not stoop to be a puppet in his 
hands—his lieutenant in the north ? Still, they argued, 
the Emperor would scarce refuse to any French gene¬ 
ral so brilliant an offer. Bernadotte, then, it must be; 
on this they entirely agreed. 

Then did Morner take to himself a second confidant, 
Signeul, the Swedish consul-general in Paris, a clever 


BERNADOTTE. 


55 


intriguer fit for the work. He was readily won with 
hopes of a future ambassadorship and great dignity 
and honour. And now Morner desired an interview 
with the Prince : this with some trouble being granted, 
our adventurer (for such he was) found himself in the 
presence of his Highness. 

Now there was a notorious sibyl-woman, who at 
that time had generally a finger in every pie—one 
Mademoiselle Lenormand had whilom read Bernadotte 
his fortune—and had promised him a crown, in order to 
obtain which he was to cross the seas. Here was a 
good chance, indeed, that the prophecy should be ful¬ 
filled. Morner pleaded his cause warmly: he was 
the representative of a strong party in Sweden ; him¬ 
self member of the Diet, he knew its sympathies, and 
they were favourable to France and to the Prince; 
and the old King could not, if he would, oppose him¬ 
self to the will of the chambers. Much more was 
said which fascinated the Prince, who, though shrewdly 
suspecting he was in the presence of an adventurer, 
acknowledged to himself that he indeed might be 
destined to rise still higher, and change his princedom 
for a kingdom; still he replied in cold and measured 
terms, professing his thanks, yet adding that Napoleon 
was his master, and on him all must depend. He 
would speak with the Emperor, and communicate the 
issue of the interview. 


56 


THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 


The Marshal Prince, received by Napoleon, declared 
his errand, and the offer made; but that he had de¬ 
clined to accept it till he knew his master’s wish, 
leaving his fate in his hands, and confessing freely it 
was a homage to the empire, and not to his poor self. 

The Emperor replied coldly. He knew not what 
it all meant. The King of Sweden had shown his 
inclination for another. “Even should the Swedes 
elect you,” continued the Emperor, “ you will reap 
neither honour nor fortune. They are a restless peo¬ 
ple, visited with anarchy, and I cannot give you one 
company of soldiers to keep you in your new position. 
I like not your lieutenant, who weaves his schemes 
unknown either to his Court or his embassy. It is 
all folly. But I wash my hands of the matter, and 
will not meddle one jot in this Swedish succession. 

Then Morner bethought himself of General Count 
"Wrede, another envoy from Sweden—an honourable, 
straightforward soldier, of a fair and ancient name, 
and allied with houses of great consideration in 
France. He had just had his parting audience with 
the Emperor, and was about to return to his own 
country. Morner knew him well, and felt great 
hopes of rousing him to help the good cause of Sweden. 
Arrived at the General’s, he entered the room with 
mysterious looks, and strange, excited face, and 
straightway locking the door, conjured the astonished 


INTRIGUING. 


57 


Swede to swear never to divulge what he was about 
to disclose —“ least of all/* he added, “to Baron 
Lagerbjelke, the Swedish minister.” 

This promised, the lieutenant poured into the old 
soldier’s ears the whole story of his doings, bis 
audience of Bernadotte, bis future plans. He declared 
that Napoleon was indifferent in tbe matter, that the 
Prince would willingly accept the honour if elected, 
that there was a large party of Swedes in bis favour, 
and be entreated Wrede to assist bis views and es¬ 
pouse tbe cause of Bernadotte. Wrede, to whom the 
Emperor bad just before expressed bis indifference on 
the subject, who likewise loved the Prince sincerely, 
as one who bad shown him much kindness, and in 
time of war bad treated bis countrymen with mercy 
and consideration, was speedily brought over, and 
promised bis best aid in Sweden. 

On tbe 29th of June, Morner left Paris, bearing a 
letter to tbe Swedish Minister of Foreign Affairs 
from General Wrede, to explain tbe motives of tbe 
latter’s conduct. Bernadotte took leave of Morner 
most courteously, and charged him to tell his Swedish 
Majesty, that Napoleon, far from opposing tbe plan, 
approved of it, while be himself would accept so high 
a destiny with cheerfulness and gratitude. But of 
all the dramatis personas of this most interesting by¬ 
play, the Swedish ambassador acted tbe sorriest part, 


58 


THE QUEERS MESSENGER. 


not having* even guessed what was in the wind, or 
suspected aught, till the honest Wrede—Morner once 
well away—-spoke the news to his Excellency. 

I would not have been in that diplomatists shoes 
for a sack of golden guineas. Meanwhile the General 
went his way home also. 

Lieutenant Morner arrived in Stockholm. One 
can well imagine the incredulous stare of that grave 
personage—the Count of Engestrom, Minister of 
State and for Foreign Affairs—when the bold youth 
poured forth his tale; how he had proposed a Crown 
Prince of Sweden, and with what success. And the 
Count Essen, then present, shouted out, “ Boy, you 
ought to sit where neither sun nor moon give light.” 

For all that, Morner’s cause gained ground, and 
advocates rose quickly—ay, even with members of the 
King’s own council board, among whom no one could 
be named more talented or more rising than Baron 
Wetterstedt, a name well known in after years. Like 
all men of genius, with eyes and mind ever open to 
new ideas and impressions, he at once perceived the 
advantages the selection of a French marshal would 
bring to Sweden, and with energy he espoused that 
warrior’s cause. 

On the same side came Baron Platen, formerly so 
warm for the Duke of Augustenburg; and Morner 
himself, although enjoined to keep his story secret, 


CHOICE OF A KING. 


59 


went about telling all wlio would listen, that the 
despatches he had brought did not, as the Govern¬ 
ment desired it to be believed, announce Napoleon's 
predilection for the Duke, but for the Prince Ponte 
Corvo. Then he wrote to his accomplice Signeul at 
Paris, that their cause tarried, and was much hindered; 
that they must work upon the Swedish Government 
from without, and show that the Prince's choice was 
favoured by Napoleon, whose every opinion had such 
weight in Sweden, that upon a wink from him they 
would select no matter whom to be their future King. 
Thus there were two parties,—and that of the Prince, 
at first the weakest, increased in number and im¬ 
portance daily. 

The scene now changes to a little country town 
called Orebro, where the Diet should sit, and thither 
the King journeyed. 

It is not my place to depict the state of the weak 
old King when he was told of the intrigues there 
carried on. He who had chosen the brother of the 
dead Prince, his adopted son, to fill the same place, 
what could he think when he found his royal wishes 
thwarted, his very courier leading the van? And for 
what? To place, forsooth, a French soldier in suc¬ 
cession on the immemorial Wasa throne ! I can see 
the struggle in mind and body, which day after day 
wore out the poor old man. 


60 


THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 


The influence of his nearer intimates was exercised 
still for the dead Prince’s brother, and this strength¬ 
ened him in his own inclination and generous resolve. 
And with these feelings he proposed the Duke of 
Au<rustenbur$r to the secret committee selected to 
make choice of a successor to the throne; and he had 
surely been elected, when the affairs took that turn 
which I shall now relate. 

The change came from without. Signeul, learning 
howthings were goingon atOrebro,sawat a glancewhat 
was wanting to turn the Diet in favour of the French 
Prince, and therefore proposed to him to send one 
Fournier, formerly French vice-consul at Gothenburg, 
to Orebro, to affirm that his Highness would gladly 
accept the Crown Princeship of Sweden, should he be 
called thereto by the Swedish nation; that Fournier 
should show such advantages in favour of the Prince 
as would shame all rivals; that he should be provided 
with full powers and a private letter from Signeul to 
the Count of Engestrom. The Prince agreed, but 
added acutely, that if all Sweden would accept him, 
the King alone refusing, he would be no Crown 
Prince of theirs; that Fournier, to prove his mission, 
should take with him a certain ivory case, containing 
miniature portraits of the Princess and his son Prince 
Oscar, to deliver to General TFrede, to whom and the 
Count of Engestrom only he was to speak on the 
subject. 


INTRIGUES. 61 

Fournier left Paris, and travelled to the last stag<^ 
from Orebro. From there he sent a letter to the 
Count Engestrom, begging permission to give into 
his hands an important and weighty commission. 
After due deliberation the permission was accorded, 
and Fournier saw the Count the same day as the 
secret committee of the Diet had given their voices 
for the Duke of Augustenburg. 

The Count was truly astonished when he learnt the 
nature of the mission. He took the portraits and 
the letter, but scarce knew what to reply. “ It is too 
late,” he said, "things have gone too far;” and yet 
he caused the conference, which should have as¬ 
sembled on the same day to review the secret com¬ 
mittee’s report, to be delayed. This delay was not 
lost by the French party; that very night hundreds 
of unsigned slips of paper were prepared, setting forth 
the material advantages which would follow the elec- 
tion of Bernadotte; that he was the choice of Na¬ 
poleon, whom all looked up to, and who would be 
secured to Sweden, and that Russia would be attacked 
and beaten; the French warrior would lead his new 
people against their hated enemies, and reconquer 
Finland for the Swedish Crown. 

Then the Count Engestrom, himself already half 
gained over, prepared for a serious task. It was 
necessary to relate what had happened to the King. 
Here he found his task easier than he had dared to 


02 


THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 


hope; his Majesty had also somewhat changed, and 
when the Count declared what Bernadotte had said— 
that were all Sweden for him, hut the King against 
him, he would have none of it—old Charles exclaimed,. 
“ Faith, that must he an honourable man.” The 
way was prepared; and when, soon after, a letter 
came by post to Count Engestrom, not sealed or 
dated, but in Signeul’s handwriting, stating that 
Napoleon would gladly see Marshal Bernadotte King 
of Sweden, the cause was won; and Sweden, torn 
with parties, still bleeding from the loss of Finland,, 
eager for revenge abroad, and threatened with anarchy 
at home, embraced with joy the hand that seemed 
stretched out to help her. A French marshal, bound 
by ties of kindred and a thousand bloody triumphs 
to the hero of the age, had risen up to rescue 
them from all their misfortunes. Bernadotte was in 
all men’s mouths; he was to be their deliverer and 
avenger. Thus thought the Diet, and on the 21st of 
August, 1810, it decided to choose as Crown Prince 
of Sweden, Jean Baptiste Julius Bernadotte, Prince 
of Ponte Corvo. 

And there was joy in Orebro. That same evening 
the merry priests of Sweden assembled together at 
their club, round huge bowls of native punch, and 
drank deep; and now the newly-elected’s health was 
proposed, and the merry priests stood up (at least, as 
many as could stand) and raised their glasses to the 


BERNADOTTE ELECTED. 


63 


toast. Then the jovial servant of the Lord, Arch¬ 
bishop of Stockholm, Primate of all Sweden, seized 
his glass too, and waving it aloft with drunken, 
blasphemous voice, roared out, “ The new Saviour's 
health !”—a proper Christian ! The words were scarce 
out of his mouth, ere he felt dimly through the fumes 
of liquor that he had uttered something unseemly; 
and wishing to mend the matter, the reverend toper 
added, with a serio-comic upward look, “ Not for¬ 
getting the old One/' and so drained his glass amidst 
general applause and merriment. Truly a goodly and 
pious assembly! 

And thus Bernadotte became Crown Prince, and, 
after the old King’s death, sat on the Swedish throne. 

With this sketch of the origin of the present 
royal family of Sweden I must close my first journey 
North. 


CHAPTER Y. 


A JOURNEY EASTWARD—TRAVELLING TO TURKEY PAST AND 
PRESENT—A ROYAL MESSENGER’S JOURNEY IN 1849 EROM 
BELGRADE TO CONSTANTINOPLE—A RIDE ACROSS TIIE BALKAN 
—DIFEICULTIES AND DANGERS OF TIIE JOURNEY—OPINION 
OF LORD PALMERSTON ON TIIE SUBJECT—IMPORTANT DUTIES 
OF ROYAL MESSENGERS—IIOW APPOINTED—IMPORTANCE OF 
BEING A GOOD LINGUIST. 

I was about to head this chapter with the following 
words, “ The story of our lives from year to year,” 
when a little bright-eyed, fair-haired Etonian, looking 
over my shoulder, exclaimed, “ Why, Nunky, you 
have cribbed that quotation from Dickens.” 

“ Indeed !” I replied, accompanying the words 
with a pinch. What then, Dickens cribbed it from 
Shakespere.” 

“ Shakespere !” repeated the young rascal; “ why, 
the papers have said so much about him of late, I 
really began to think there was no such person.” 

On my life, these Eton lads are becoming vastly 
precocious. In fact, they keep pace with the world’s 
onward march; which reminds me that, while com- 


A JOURNEY EASTWARD. 


65 


piling the notes of my late dear friend, I find it abso¬ 
lutely necessary to be brief and crisp, as it were, in 
my details. In these days pace is a pet with the 
public. I bow to their decision; though I must 
admit, that as the bright sun is always more welcome 
after a rainy day, so a trifle of unavoidable prosiness 
here and there, by way of explanation, causes a lively 
tale to flash out with double gusto. All that I can 
hope, therefore, is that the portions of my friend's 
narrative which I am compelled to omit may be con¬ 
sidered as slow. 

An author whose works live in the hearts of all 
wise men to the present day, and which will live as 
long as the world lasts, makes the following very 
quaint, but very truthful and judicious remarks :— 

*•' I know there are readers in the world—as well as 
many other good people in it who are no readers at all 
—who find themselves ill at ease unless they are let 
into the whole secret, from first to last, of every¬ 
thing which concerns you at once." 

In fact, a writer is expected to plunge head foremost 
into the profoundest depth of his subject, as a man 
takes a header into the sea on a hot summer's day. 
Referring again to one ol my favourite authors, he 
observes,— 

u Therefore, if you should think me somewhat 
sparing of my narrative on my first setting out, bear 


66 


THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 


with me, and let me go on and tell my story in 
my own way; or if I should seem now and then to 
trifle upon the read, or should sometimes put on a 
fool’s cap with a hell to it for a moment or two as we 
pass along, don’t fly off; hut rather give me credit 
for a little more wisdom than appears upon my 
outside, and as we jog on either laugh with me or 
abuse me, or, in short, do anything but lose your 
temper.” 

We have taken a trip northward together, travelled 
with a Bricka, dined at Stockholm, smoked a cigar in 
a Swedish cafe, told you how Field-Marshal Bernadotte 
became Crown Prince of Sweden, had a mud bath, 
and are none the worse for it. 

Let us now journey together Eastward Ho !—smoke 
a chibouke, eat a kabob perchance in the bazaar at 
Constantinople, get a sight of the Light of the World, 
commonly called the Sultan, or a peep at some of the 
ladies of his harem. 

In the first quarter of the nineteenth century, 
Constantinople—better known as the City of the 
Sultan—was purely an eastern city, with all the 
characteristics of tobacco smoke, cucumber-eating, 
harems, Bahathlacome, yellow slippers, dogs, and 
dirt; and the difficulty of getting there, to say 
nothing of the expense, was quite sufficient to shut 
the so-called Gates of the Dardanelles to all save the 


RECOLLECTIONS OF CONSTANTINOPLE. 67 


wealthy and most energetic travellers, or the British 
fleet. 

Thirty years, however, have placed Constantinople 
within the reach of the multitude, and the Crimean 
war converted an Eastern city with innumerable 
sources of interest into a demi-European town of con¬ 
siderable discomfort, dire expense, speculation, and 
dishonesty; and the dogs and the rats, which the 
French troops amused themselves in destroying by 
scores or hundreds, still live, and multiply prodi¬ 
giously and disgustingly. 

In fact, Constantinople and the East that was, no 
longer is. Yet let us go there, with a Royal messen¬ 
ger in “ present” as in “ past days,” and judge practi¬ 
cally of scenes of which the educated world, for the 
most part, judge theoretically. 

First let us turn back some years, and fancy the 
man bold enough to take passage by sea to the land 
of the Mussulman— imprimis , I allude more particu¬ 
larly to one about to travel for pleasure, health, change 
of scene, or aught else but duty: one deeply read in 
Byron; one longing to visit the so-called calm blue 
waters of the Mediterranean; the glorious ruins of 
Athens and the bright blue skies of Greece ; the 
islands of the Archipelago; the Dardanelles; the Sea 
of Marmora, and all the overrated beauties of the 
East, till at length he smokes his “ pipe of peace” re- 

5—2 



68 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


dining' in a caique on the waters of the Bosphorus, 
while gazing on the mosques and minarets of the 
City of the Sultan. 

Steamers were then in their babyhood in compari¬ 
son with their present admirable comfort and effi¬ 
ciency. 

The traveller started, may be, from Southampton, 
selected a berth, on board an ill-ventilated, confined 
hole called a cabin ; food neither good nor sufficient; 
in a vessel cranky, perhaps leaky; a rough sea across 
the Bay of Biscay—such was the fate of a pleasure¬ 
seeking traveller—sick—sick—sick. 

“ When shall we get to land, captain?—Oh ! I am 
deadly sick;—reach me that basin, boy; 'tis the most 
discomforting sickness—I wish I was at the bottom. 
Madam, how is it with you ? What a tramping over¬ 
head !—Hollo, cabin boy, what is the matter?" 

“ The wind has chopped about, sir." 

“ Captain, for Heaven's sake let us go on shore." 

At length Gibraltar is in sight, and Malta ; and then 
the wild headlands of Cape Matapan, and behold the 
land—no, rather say the rocky, hideous coast—of the 
Morea on the left, and equally uninteresting island of 
Cerigo, but yesterday ours, on the right. We leave 
the iEgean Sea, and the Piraeus, and the Acropolis 
for another visit, and at length cast anchor for a few 
hours off Syra, a town composed of a multitude of flat- 


THE SEA OF MAHMOKA. 


69 


roofed houses, crowded oil a small island hill-side, 
without tree or vegetation to enliven or refresh the 
landscape; and then onwards again through some of 
the far-famed islands of the Archipelago. After a 
month's passage the Dardanelles were entered—where 
now, as in other days, some of the large stone balls 
are observed piled up on the forts, counterpart of those 
which the Turks of yore threw on the decks of Sir 
John Duckworth's ships when forcing the Dardanelles, 
two of which may now be seen at the front doorsteps of 
the present Sir John Duckworth's seat in Devonshire, 
and for which, so says report, the Custom House 
charged him dutv on his return to England. Free 
trade in relics then appears to have been unknown. 
Having passed the Dardanelles and the miserable 
mass of hovels called Gallipoli, made historic since 
the Crimean war, the Sea of Marmora is entered— 
there is a fierce storm, and when there is a fierce 
storm in Marmora Sea, it is a storm and no mistake 
—though many imagine it to be a mere lake; and 
imagination is so far correct when the winds, which 
rush at times like Furies from the north, are hushed, 
and all nature is at rest. Yet in later times than those 
I write of, I have been for hours in a large French 
steamer, right glad to take shelter under one of Mar¬ 
mora's islets, till the wind permitted us to poke our 
noses out to sea again, and ho ! for the Golden Horn ! 


70 


THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 


which when reached is anything but golden, but as 
dangerous a locality as Scylla and Charybdis, and its 
waters are neither clear nor sweet. Anchored there, 
man may well bend the knee and thank God that, 
with all the vaunted charms of other lands, he is an 
Englishman, and that after thirty days’ discomfort, if 
not disgust, he has passed over, barring the fogs and 
the icebergs, as sickening and as perilous a sea as that 
which divides Old England from America. 

Happily, however, for all ranks and all professions, 
through the advance of civilization, perhaps I ought 
to say mechanical art, what was a source of fatigue, 
expense, nay, at times danger, is now reduced in a 
great measure to a mere voyage of pleasure, of which 
I shall speak hereafter. Meanwhile, if the traveller 
of other days took thirty days to gain the City of the 
Sultan, how did lioyal messengers get there ?—for, 
unquestionabty, such was not the rate for despatches. 

I cannot do better than give word for word the 
graphic and interesting notes of my friend on this 
head. They are dated, “ Therapia, on the Bospho¬ 
rus, 2nd November, 1849,” and go far to prove the 
truth of a few words in a very pleasant paper of 
Mr. Sala’s, wherein he says, “I allude to an ordinary 
British traveller, and not to a royal messenger or a 
man of cast iron.” 

“ I have been here since the 26th of last month,” 


SEMLIN. 


71 


writes my friend, “ but no opportunity has occurred 
since then of sending a despatch to England; but 
there will be, I hear, by the way of Trieste to-morrow 
night, of which I shall avail myself, as I much wish 
to give you a sketch of my journey from Belgrade to 
Constantinople. 

“ I left Semlin on the afternoon of Saturday, the 
20th; and, strange to say, the Austrian despatches, 
which had left Vienna the same moment as myself, 
arrived on the bank of the river just as I was stepping 
into the boat which was to convey me across. They, 
the Austrians, have no special messenger for them 
in Turkey, but a Tatar waits for them at Belgrade, 
and as soon as they are landed, off he starts, and to 
insure the greatest possible despatch another relieves 
him at Nissa, and a third at Philipopali—all of 
which places are between Belgrade and Constanti¬ 
nople. 

“ There were fearful odds against me, but my in¬ 
structions were very positive, and I put my face to 
the difficulty in the best way I could. Having, how¬ 
ever, to send for a Tatar to procure fresh horses from 
the Pasha, and to throw away half of the very little 
luggage I had brought with me from England, caused 
me a detention of two hours at Belgrade, and even 
then I found that my arrangements were scarcely 
half completed. 


72 THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 

“ The sun had nearly set before I left the old 
fortified walls of Belgrade, and hardly had our horses’ 
hoofs quitted the pavement before the rain, which 
had been threatening all day, came down in torrents, 
and made the roads nearly impassable. Boads, how¬ 
ever, they can scarcely be called, being merely tracks 
through a dense forest; the direction being marked 
out by the felling of trees, the stumps of which, stand¬ 
ing sometimes to the height of two or three feet, 
prove awkward obstacles on a dark night; fortunately, 
however, I had a good Tatar, decent horses, and a 
willing surrigee, and after four hours’ hard riding I 
reached the posthouse, and had the satisfaction of 
finding the Austrian Tatar still there, with no proba¬ 
bility of being ready for departure. I think I named 
having no luggage, and thus early in my journey I 
experienced the enormous advantages which this 
gave me, for I was in the saddle again and off 
before the Austrian Mustapha had knocked the 
ashes out of his pipe; and as I may as well close 
this part of my narrative at once, I may add, 
that notwithstanding the three special Tatars, I 
reached Constantinople one day and nine hours before 
them. 

“ The rain continued to pour down in torrents after 
we left the posthouse, and the night became so en¬ 
tirely dark, that at one time we lost our way, and I 


TATAR RHISTO. 


73 


thought the mud would have been our bed for the 
night; but my guide was a light-hearted fellow, and 
persevered, and in this manner we rode through the 
livelong night. But so black was the whole horizon, 
and so dense the forest through which we were passing, 
that although the Tatar mounted on a white horse 
was immediately in front of me, I could not distin¬ 
guish him in the least. 

“ Daylight found us crossing the river Morava in a 
small boat, and although the roads were up to our 
saddle-girths in mud, it was fine overhead, and we 
rode merrily along the plain leading to Alexinitza, no 
longer dinned by the howling of wolves, which had 
kept us company the whole night. 

“ About nine the sun burst forth brilliantly, and 
also most usefully, for it dried our drenched clothes, 
and imparted life, strength, and spirits to the whole 
party. At Alexinitza I was in great hopes of finding 
our old and confidential Tatar, Bhisto, who, inde¬ 
pendently of being one of the best men I know, was 
personally attached to me. Still there was a possi¬ 
bility of his being absent, and I therefore cannot ex¬ 
press to you the great relief it was to me when, 
entering the yard of the khan, I beheld him rush out 
of the house, and the next moment seizing hold ol my 
hand, cover it with kisses, whilst the tears ran down 
his weather-beaten face. And the dogs which I had 


74 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


left there the previous year also now came round, and 
seemed really to devour me with caresses. 

“ I remained only one hour at Alexinitza, and then 
pushed on for Nissa, the first frontier town of Bul¬ 
garia, as I was anxious to see the Pasha before sunset. 
The sun still shone brightly, but the country was 
almost inundated; and as there was no moon, I almost 
despaired of making a rapid journey. Nevertheless, 
I determined to persevere, and the result will tell with 
what success. 

“ Turkish Pashas do not transact business very 
rapidly, and it was long past sunset before I got clear 
of the crumbling walls of Nissa; but a young moon 
did us good service for the first two hours, and then 
left us just as we were entering the rugged defiles of 
the mountains; when, in fact, we were most in need 
of her assistance. The Balkan range was very grand, 
but even if the night had not been dark, I should 
have seen nothing of it, for this was the second I had 
passed in the saddle, and I was reeling backwards and 
forwards in a very odd and ridiculous manner. I have 
a confused recollection of riding near the brinks of 
precipices, and of passing through defiles where the 
rocks closed overhead, and again of fording torrents; 
but everything was dim and vague, and it was not 
until a muezzin from a minaret in the town of Chaijoo 
shouted the early morning hour that I had the 


' DIFFICULTIES OF THE ROAD. 


75 


slightest idea we were so near the break of another 
day. 

“ Day, however, came, and found me very weary 
and very stiff, but quite well, and eager for a cup of 
tea, which good old Rhisto always found time to get 
ready for me on every possible occasion. The next 
stage to Sophia was one of sixteen hours, or nearly 
eighty miles, on the same horses, with several chains 
of mountains to cross; and as I knew one set of 
animals could not possibly do this quickly, I ordered 
five fresh horses to be sent on whilst I got my break¬ 
fast in a wretched posthouse. The country still con¬ 
tinued nearly up to our saddle-girths in mud; but we 
pushed on steadily, and as we ascended the high table¬ 
lands near Sophia, the ground became harder, and 
the poor horses, I am afraid, suffered from our in¬ 
creased speed. We reached Sophia about 9 p.m., 
and were off again for Ichtiman, another long twelve 
hours’ stage, at half-past. I think it was during this 
night that the most overpowering sensations of weari¬ 
ness I ever experienced came over me. I very nearly 
fell out of my saddle twice, a dangerous practice 
where the road frequently ran on the brink of a pre¬ 
cipice ; but the cavalry escort led the party, and the 
pace was so rapid, that, except when walking, these 
sensations never completely mastered me. At Ichti¬ 
man we changed horses about one in the morning, 


76 


THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 


having before us the ascent of the Balkan ere we 
reached Tatar Bazaarjik, a village in the plains on the 
other side of the mountain, and about forty-eight 
miles distant. 

“ I cannot explain how this night was passed, for I 
know not myself. Although we crossed some magni¬ 
ficent scenery, a dogged resolution to go on, mixed 
with a determination that as long as I could sit up¬ 
right in my saddle I never would get out of it, 
sustained me; and Rhisto, whose pride in my success 
was now roused, encouraged me in every possible 
manner. Indeed, he watched me as if I had been 
his own son, and I am thankful to say, never once 
talked of giving in; for although I should not have 
acceded to his request, it would have discouraged me. 

“ Just as the first tinge of dawn crossed the horizon 
we surmounted the topmost ridge of the Balkan, and, 
after resting our horses half an hour, clattered down 
the sides of the mountain to Tatar Bazaarjik. Thence 
to Philipopali is a level plain, and we reached the 
latter place soon after two; but not before Rhisto had 
taken to his own share of refreshment a water-melon 
about the size of a moderate balloon. Philipopali is 
celebrated for its steam baths, and I required one. 
Moreover, they are most refreshing after long-con¬ 
tinued exertion. So X dismounted from my saddle 
and walked with Rhisto to them, ordering fresh horses 


A DELUGE OF RAIN. 


77 


to be ready in two hours. I had felt some pain in the 
morning; from an old musket wound, but nothing to 
cause me any uneasiness, and as I had been three days 
and nights in the saddle without cessation, I attri¬ 
buted it to the great exertion, and thought it would go 
off after my bath. I found, however, on undressing, 
that my linen was covered with blood. To make 
matters worse Bhisto was at this very moment taken 
violently ill, and his once manly face turned quite 
livid. What to do I knew not. I suffered compara¬ 
tively little pain, so, hoping for the best, I hurried 
on my clothes again, went back to the posthouse, 
mounted a fresh horse, and in a torrent of rain and 
wind, started on a long sixteen hours’ stage to 
Eskew. 

“ At first poor Bhisto reeled in his saddle like a 
drunken man; but the saddle is the Tatar’s home, 
and after the first hour or two he shook his illness oft' 
and became the same quiet, energetic, attentive crea¬ 
ture as before. The rain set in, a regular deluge; 
the country through which our horses struggled was 
a regular swamp, and they were nearly knocked up 
before they had completed eight of the sixteen hours. 
That they did do so eventually I consider most for¬ 
tunate, for had I persevered in riding through the 
whole of this night as I had done on the three pre¬ 
ceding ones, I have no doubt that over-taxed nature 


78 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


would have given way, and that I should have brought 
on a very serious illness. So, about nine at night, 
when it was so dark that you could not see your hand 
before your face, we turned into a roadside khan, and 
telling Rhisto to call me when the horses were restored, 
I threw myself on a wooden bench, and was fast asleep 
in half a minute. Rhisto told me afterwards that he had 
not the heart to wake me, and that I remained quite 
motionless for six hours; hut about three a.m. we were 
in the saddle again, and although the rain fell in tor¬ 
rents the whole day, by dint of hard riding we reached 
Adrianople at seven in the evening. I still experi¬ 
enced some pain, hut not so much as I expected, and 
my few hours' sleep had done me a world of good. The 
country between Adrianople and Silivria, on the Sea 
of Marmora, consists of many steppes without tree or 
even hush; the soil growing nothing but tall rank 
thistles, amongst which herds of buffalo roam. The 
moon lit us cheerily enough out of Adrianople, but 
soon after ten our old luck returned: the niMit was 
black and dark as ink, and again I could neither dis¬ 
tinguish Rhisto nor the surrigee, although they were 
only ten paces in advance. 

“ Whilst descending a hill rapidly my horse fell 
heavily and lay upon my right leg; but the ground 

was so soft, that beyond the shake I suffered no 

\ 

inconvenience, and I was in the saddle again before 


THE JOURNEY FINISHED. 


79 


Rhisto, who had heard although he could not see the 
fall, could come to mv assistance. 

“ Ah, the misery of that night of mud, and dark¬ 
ness, and watchfulness ! Twenty times I turned in 
my saddle, feeling sure that day must be on the point 
of breaking; hut the day breaks not the earlier for 
men’s wishes, and the dawn appeared not until 
hours, long hours, after I had felt sure it would have 
done so. 

“ About eight on the following morning my horse 
again fell with me, and, wonderful to say, although 
in falling he twisted the steel spur on my right boot 
like a piece of wire, my ankle was in no way injured. 
How grateful do I feel to Him who has thus been so 
merciful throughout my journey ! 

“ In fact, the very heavy nature of the country, 
which I deplored, as it prevented my going fast, saved 
me, I believe, from a broken limb on both occasions. 
This day was spent in traversing the same description 
of country until towards night, when we caught a 
glimpse of the Sea of Marmora, and I then knew my 
long and weary journey was drawing to a close, for its 
waters wash the walls of Constantinople. We reached 
Silivria, the last post station on the road, distant from 
the capital about forty miles, at nine in the even¬ 
ing, and although the heaviness of sleep again came 
over me, and my eyes had become so weary and blood- 


80 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


shot that I could scarce see out of them, I got into 
the saddle with a light heart, well knowing that I 
should witness the morning's sun shining upon the 
mosques and minarets of Constantinople. A weary 
ride, however, we had on that dark night, partly on 
the side of a steep mountain range, partly near the 
sea-shore, the waves of which came up to our horses' 
feet. 

“ Thank God, we had no other trouble but tired 
and jaded horses to contend with, and at half-past 
five on Friday morning I entered the old ruined 
gateway of Constantinople, traversed its narrow and 
tortuous streets, and crossing the Golden Horn in a 
caique, reached the English embassy at Pera, having 
been just five days and eleven hours in traversing on 
horseback eight hundred and twenty miles, having 
the whole of that time to contend with wind, mud, 
and rain, besides two heavyish falls, which, if they 
broke no bones, certainly did me no good. I felt a 
certain pride in hearing that it was considered the 
quickest journey ever performed in the winter, and 
that the best Tatars in the service of the Porte took 
six days during fine summer weather. I can claim 
credit for obstinacy, at least, if for no higher quality. 

“ Sir Stratford Canning, now Lord Stratford de 
Bedcliffe, being at Therapia, on the Bosphorus, I had 
again to get into my saddle ; as, however, it is only 


SIR STRATFORD CANNING. 


81 




thirteen miles distant from Constantinople, this 



a mere trifle after having accomplished more than 


eight hundred. 

u The members of his family had just finished break¬ 
fast as I arrived, and were lounging out of the windows 
of the embassy as my cavalcade galloped up. A 
pretty figure I must have looked!—my face copper- 
coloured from the effect of wind, sun, and rain, and 
my clothes covered with every species of mud to be 
found between Belgrade and Constantinople. Lady C. 
and her daughters looked rather alarmed at such an 
apparition, and well they might. Whilst Sir S. Can¬ 
ning was reading over his despatches, I had breakfast 
prepared for me, and I should imagine that I looked 
like a hungry wolf, as they placed some eatable food 
on the table; in fact, I could hardly summon sufficient 
good breeding to keep my fingers out of the dishes. 
Ilis Excellency came in shortly after, and nothing 
could be more kind and cordial than his manner. 
Having expressed his regret that he had not a room 
vacant at the embassy, he sent his servant to procure 
one close by, and begged me to be his guest during 
my stay at Therapia. It was quite astonishing how 
little tired I felt at that time; and after having had 
a Turkish bath, and been well stewed, I felt fit to go 
back again to Belgrade. What a contrast was the 
evening after my arrival to those of the six or seven 


6 


82 


THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 


F 


previous ones which I had spent in darkness, mud, 
and wretchedness! but so accustomed were my eyes 
to the light, that I could not look at the lamps on the 
drawing-room table. 

u An English steam frigate, the Aden , was lying at 
anchor opposite the embassy, and as I knew several 
of the officers, from having seen them at Naples, I 
found myself in the midst of old friends. During the 
evening Sir Stratford Canning said some very agree¬ 
able things respecting my rapid journey, which he 
intended to bring to the notice of the higher powers, 
who I trust will be satisfied. I was quite well for the 
next two or three days, but after that a sort of reaction 
came on. I suffered considerable pain in my limbs, 
and at last I was compelled to take to my bed, where 
I remained several days. 

“ I prefer being here to a noisy, expensive hotel in 
Constantinople. We have a large party every day 
at dinner at the embassy, music and agreeable con¬ 
versation in the evening. The weather is charming, 
November though it is, and the Bosphorus looking 
beautiful. This is the Turkish autumn—a sort of 
second summer. There is great excitement about the 
quarrel with Russia, but the decided steps taken by 
England and Erance will doubtless prevent war. The 
passage of war steamers along the Bosphorus is in¬ 
cessant, and our own flag is tolerably active.” 


ALEXINITZA. 


83 

My readers, with some excuse, may believe that I 
have drawn somewhat largely on imagination while 
describing this rapid, perilous, and exhausting journey. 
So far from it, I have merely given, as it were, a precis 
—in fact, a mere outline of the difficulties contended 
with. I am in no manner desirous that any one 
should imagine that such journeys are the common 
routine of a royal messengers duties, neither are 
they, nor have they been, constant. Extraordinary 
events call for extraordinary efforts, and this was an 
occasion requiring zeal, perseverance, and I must add 
pluck. 

I have more than once mentioned Alexinitza, and 
alluded to my friend’s meeting with Rhisto, who was 
well known to the messenger who performed the 
journey. Alexinitza was, in fact, the point to which 
her Majesty’s messengers formerly went during a long 
period that Constantinople may be said to have been 
in its quarantine with the world ; consequently, the 
messengers halted there, sending on Tatars to the 
capital and remaining there till they returned. It 
was therefore absolutely necessary to have some re¬ 
creation, and as the wild country around abounded in 
game, dogs and guns were in great request; and I 
believe I am not wrong in naming, that every suc¬ 
ceeding messenger who came from England was ex¬ 
pected to bring out and leave a few books, till a very 

6—2 




S4 


THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 


tolerable library was formed in the miserable Bulgarian 
abode where for a time they lingered. 

But the advent of railways and steam communication 
has materially altered the severity of these journeys. 
This is as regards time only, however; as I, who 
have tried carriage travelling and railway travelling, 
as well as sledge travelling, during the long and 
bitter nights of Russian winters, unhesitatingly 
assert that carriage travelling is far more independent 
and far less injurious to health. And I shall here¬ 
after describe some of these Russian and Danish 
journeys, which were and are by no means trips of 
mere pleasure. 

tc In corroboration of the details I have given as 
regards a rapid overland journey to Constantinople 
performed on horseback, I feel I may add an extract 

9 

taken from a speech of the Prime Minister, Viscount 
Palmerston, in the House of Commons, May £7, 
1850. 

“ This speech arose on an occasion when some 
great question of econom}^ was brought forward ; and 
on such occasions the liberal public are well aware 
that these economies, generally speaking, strike with 
the greatest severity those who work hardest. 

“ f As a proof/ said the noble lord, f of the zeal 
with which these royal messengers render their 
services to the government of this country, I would 


LORD PALMERSTON'S OPINION. 


85 


mention an instance in which one of these gentlemen 
performed his duty on an occasion when it was re¬ 
quired that he should make an extraordinary effort, 
in order to carry a despatch of very considerable im¬ 
portance from the Foreign Office to Constantinople, 
at a time when a question was pending between 
[Russia and Turkey, who was three days and nights 
in the saddle without quitting it, and performed the 
journey in the worst weather, and under the greatest 
possible difficulties. 

“ ‘ This showed that these servants of the Crown 
and the public were willing to perform, and capable 
of performing, duties when required of them, which 
one would think it was almost impossible any human 
being would be able to go through with/ 

“The noble lord added, that he was glad to have 
this opportunity of doing justice to that excellent 
messenger whose great exertions he had mentioned, 
and whose zeal had not been surpassed by any person 
employed in that department of the public service." 

The mere physical act of carrying a despatch bag 
might possibly be performed by Tom Sayers—at least, 
there doubtless are many ready to make the assertion—• 
without any knowledge of foreign languages, any 
knowledge of the higher courtesies oflife, which make 
meiFs ways so easy on the Continent if they know how 
to avail themselves of them. Moreover, Tom Sayers, 


86 


THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 


doubtless a highly honourable as well as athletic indi¬ 
vidual, might be enabled by physical force and courage 
to fight his way through many of the difficulties and 
dangers which have from time to time been encoun- 

O 

tered by Royal messengers when bearing despatches; 
such as an upset in a midwinter snowstorm in the 
depths of an interminable Russian forest, with wolves 
howling around you ; a drunken postillion, and an utter 
ignorance of the mother tongue of the country in 
which he was travelling; or a railway smash in Po¬ 
land ; or a storm at sea in a foreign steamer. 

I have no doubt that such a man, and hundreds of 
others, would carry a despatch to the world’s end if 
these alone were the difficulties to contend with; and 
a left-hander from such men, ifitdidnot create reason 
and promptitude of decision, would undoubtedly drive 
it out of the heads of any stupid German, vanity- 
stricken Don, or poor Russian serf. 

Yet place such men in an}^ small custom-house diffi¬ 
culty on a frontier, where calm explanation and tem¬ 
perate good breeding are required to hasten your 
movements; place them in a position where a thorough 
knowledge of language and routes is required, to 
change from one point of railway to another ; to ob¬ 
tain horses quickly at stations or post-houses; to suc¬ 
ceed in various unforeseen, though may be trifling, 
explanations; to obtain necessary food and refresh- 


APPOINTMENT OF QUEEN'S MESSENGERS. 87 


merit; and, in other days, everlasting passport 
annoyances ;—and I say, although such men would 
possibly have performed the rapid journey overland I 
have detailed with little physical evil, in ten other 
difficulties they would not only have been, and would 
be, as it were, useless, but more than useless, as pos¬ 
sibly never reaching their destination at all. And it 
is on these grounds, and very just grounds, that ail 
examination in foreign languages, &c., is required to 
be passed ere any candidate is nominated to the corps 
of Royal Messengers—their name and position being 
placed before her Majesty for approval previous to final 
appointment. Thus that which, in former days, was 
not precisely the case, has become a corps of highly 
educated and highly-born gentlemen, who have for the 
most part served in the army. 

In order to show how very easily even a despatch 
might be delayed by a want of knowledge of the lan¬ 
guage of the country in which the bearer is travelling, 
or any other similar difficulty, I will terminate this 
paper by a trifling though somewhat ludicrous anec¬ 
dote, in proof of that which I have asserted. 

Being at Vienna, I happened to become acquainted 
with a most amiable and independent English gentle¬ 
man, but one not precisely gifted with a knowledge 
of foreign tongues. His society was so agreeable, that 
scarcely a day passed that we did not take a ramble 


88 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


about the city, going here and there, dining together, 
and so forth. In fact, he was wont quaintly and 
humorously to observe, that I saved him the expense 
of a commissioner, as all his knowledge of German 
consisted in the power of asking for “ ein glas of bier." 
Moreover, the weather being extremely hot, and the 
Vienna beer of first-rate quality, it would be difficult 
to say how many glasses of this luxury (for luxury it 
was, this light sparkling beer, cool as ice from the 
cellar) he daily consumed, in which I was, I must 
confess, nothing loth to join him. Indeed, we were 
wont to finish up the toils or pleasures of the day with 
a glass of cool beer at the club, and then to bed, 
always calling the last glass Vienna nectar. In fact, 
we swallowed about a yard of beer each daily, which 
term may be explained by my naming that beer is 
generally served in long glasses, about three times the 
length of an ordinary tumbler. 

One morning I went into his room to inform him 
that I was about to start that night for Berlin, on 
which he instantly determined to accompany me as 
far as Dresden. We left Vienna, if I recollect rightly, 
about seven p.m.; the night was intensely hot, and 
after some pleasant conversation, and the discussion of 
several Ilavannahs, about ten at night I fell fast asleep. 
I know not whether from habit or what not, but how¬ 
ever sound I sleep on a railway, I invariably wake up 


A RAILWAY JOURNEY. 


89 


on the occasion of a train stopping, even for a few 
minutes only : I conclude it is the sudden cessation of 
movement. Ee it as it may, on the night in ques¬ 
tion, the train remained at some small station for two 
minutes only—so short was the stoppage that I did 
not wake up till we were actually on the move again— 
when I discovered the absence of my friend: and 
hastily looking out of the window I beheld him (he 
was rather a stout gentleman), with a blue silk hand¬ 
kerchief tied on his head, rushing frantically after the 
train, with a long beer glass in his hand. It was too 
late, however : we were olf and far away ere he had 
time to finish the last drop of that which was nectar 
at Vienna, but anything but nectar, I fancy, where he 
had to pass the night. 

The subsequent explanation I received was simply 
as follows :—“ The night was intensely hot; you 
were sleeping, and I did not like to disturb you. 
These people, who live on sour-krout—at least, the rail¬ 
way officials—ought to be compelled to learn English. 
These lines are half supported by English travellers. 
The fellows who opened the door cried out, c Sfy 
minutes/ or something like it, and of course I thought 
he meant five minutes—plenty of time for drinking 
two yards of beer. I had a miserable night; slept on 
a deal table—eight hours ere the next train came up; 
beer odious; people ignorant beyond measure, under- 


90 


THE QUEERS MESSENGER. 


stand no language but their own. However, I am 
making up for my discomfort at Dresden. I will 
never cross the channel again when once more in Old 
England. Certainly I will never go to Germany.” 
Nevertheless, for five subsequent autumns he visited 
Germany. I suppose it was for the beer. 

On another occasion, I was travelling with a young 
Englishman, from Cologne to Berlin. At Hanover, 
those going to Hamburgh change carriages, those for 
Berlin remain. I was fast asleep on our reaching 
Hanover, and my companion—he w r as a mere chance 
train acquaintance—not wishing to disturb me, 
trusted to his own knowledge of the language, mis- 
took the order to remain, and found himself at Ham¬ 
burgh about the same time that I arrived, and he had 
desired to reach, Berlin. 

These little incidents of travel, I believe, are as 
constant as they appear easy to avoid; but in foreign 
lands, without knowledge of language, customs, or 
routes, they easily occur. And although not very im¬ 
portant as regards the traveller for pleasure, they would 
be very serious to one bearing despatches. 


CHAPTER YI. 


CONSTANTINOPLE—MY IMPRESSIONS OF IT—THE SUMMER HEAT 
AND WINTER DIRT—THE DEARNESS OF LIVING AND WANT OF 
COMFORT—STEAMBOATS ON THE BOSPHORUS—PERA—HOTELS 
AND BOARDING-HOUSES—A CRIMEAN GENERAL AND A PERA 
HOTEL-KEEPER—LIVING AT TIIERAPIA AND BYUKDERE. 

When reading a very pleasant paper, entitled, 
“ Through Berks,” I found the following observation: 
—“ If I were asked where to travel, I should reply, 
England.” Again,—“ The temptation is doubtless 
great to plunge into a foreign country, to breathe an 
untried atmosphere, to mingle with an entirely diffe¬ 
rent race.” I perfectly agree with the writer—not 
that I would debar all who can from visiting foreign 
lands, be it only to realize the fact that nine out of 
every ten travellers, men of sense, return with greater 
gusto and admiration to their own country, of which 
by the multitude, so little is really known. 

Well do I recollect, as a very humble author, offer¬ 
ing, several years since, a mass of MS. to one of our 
leading London publishers; calling some weeks sub- 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


92 

sequently to ascertain liis opinion as to its merits, lie 
thus courteously addressed me :— 

1/ 

“ Sir, I Lave read your MS. myself, and I am bound 
to admit the perusal lias afforded me not only pleasure, 
but considerable interest and information. It relates, 
however, entirely to England—home, in fact,—and I 
therefore fear the publication would not pay. If you 
will write me a book, in precisely the same style, 
about Kamtschatka, Peru or Persia,—or, in fact, about 
any foreign land, I will give you three hundred pounds 
for it. But English people will not read about Eng¬ 
land." 

As regards myself, nothing gives me more pleasure 
than reading about my fatherland; but the majority, 
I fear, prefer “ Parmesan" and Gruybre" to Che¬ 
shire and North Wiltshire ; consequently these foreign 
cheeses obtain the best price in the market. Never¬ 
theless, the book was published, and although well 
spoken of by the press, nobody read it, simply because 
they fancied, tire subject being England, they knew it 
far better than the author. 

So now let us linger awhile in the East, ere we cross 
the arid plains of Castile, travel over the snow-clad 
wastes of Russia, cross the sickening and uncertain 
seas of the Baltic, or the Gulf of Lyons, enjoy the 
fertile and luxuriant vales of Italy and France, or 
visit Austria, Russia and Poland. 


CONSTANTINOPLE. 


93 


Could my pen speak as my mind freely recurs to the 
numerous incidents and recollections which float as it 
were on my imagination, how many a pleasant tale, 
how many a curious anecdote, could I relate, which 
appears to escape the memory as it glides over these 
pages, or as I refer to notes of days lang syne! 

In my last chapter I endeavoured briefly to relate 
how, under great difficulties, a royal messenger had 
made a rapid journey from Belgrade to the City of the 
Sultan. 

Now, a well-known author, in one of his pleasant 
essays, remarked “ that two travellers may arrive at the 
same inn by different roads and different company. 
So two writers can arrive at the same conclusion, 
though by different paths, and the impression of the 
journey left on the mind depends on the features of 
the country traversed, and the companions one has by 
the way. It is not rendered alike to both travellers, 
because they must meet at last at the same sign, and 
conclude their adventures with a chop off the same 
mutton.” 

As regards the bearer of despatches, I do not allude 
to one into whose hands chance may have thrown this 
onerous and ofttimes most trying duty, but to one to 
whom it is a constant office; and then I say, that 
although he travel rapidly, no man travels more 
practically, if he be, as he ought to be, a steady 


94 


THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 


though quick observer of nature and of man; in 
sucli case, the constant passing through the same 
countries by the same Continental routes ought, nay 
does, give him a knowledge of places, and the 
habits and manners of people with whom he is 
daily and hourly associated, that few others, even 
those who linger by the wayside, can or ever do obtain. 

With reference to Constantinople, doubtless there 
are hundreds of British officers who served during 
the Crimean war, who are well and practically ac¬ 
quainted—as well as scores of other travellers—with 
every part of the city, its mosques, its minarets, 
bazaars, and dancing dervishes. In no manner, how¬ 
ever, do I propose to inflict on the patience of my 
readers any description or opinion as regards these 
unquestionably interesting localities. My object is 
more to convince those who have journeyed there 
how vast the change—though I fear for the worse, as 
far as the knowledge of a Turk is concerned—of* the 
present from the past. Murray’s Guide-book will 
possibly point out to those who may henceforth 
chance to visit the city the objects most worthy of 
admiration, while I would desire to explain how 
greatly the advent of railways and steam power has 
facilitated a journey to the East, and how many the 
routes which may be pleasantly travelled to accom¬ 
plish it. 


LIVING AT THERAPIA. 


95 


It is late spring*, or rather early summer time; but 
yesterday, as it were, I was reposing at Therapia, 
beneath the shade of the brightest of green foliage, 
in that Ambassadorial garden on whose terraces, 
doubtless, he who crossed the Balkan range in ^49 
had smoked his pipe of peace and rested after his 
fatigues. It was the favourite summer residence of 
one whose name will ever be connected with the 
history of the past, as regards the administration of 
Turkey; not less so in connexion with the Crimean 
war;—one to whom the world must justly award the 
highest diplomatic talents; and, if merit be fairly 
acknowledged, all honour to him to whom the Turks 
owe a debt of deep gratitude. 

This pleasant residence at Therapia is still the 
property of the British Crown, and here, during the 
heats of summer, diplomacy finds health and repose 
from the fresh breezes of the Bosphorus and the calm 
beauties of nature by which it is surrounded. I have 
said that but yesterday, as it were, I sat in the plea¬ 
sant garden of this most agreeable summer retreat: 
all nature was at rest, the deep blue ocean, forming 
the Bay of Byukdere, lay as a mirror before me, 
dotted over with numerous gay caiques; while here 
and there a vessel, forced onward by the rapid current 
from the Black Sea, floated rather than sailed towards 
the capital,—the hill-sides or wooded heights framing 


96 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 

the charming picture. It was, in fact, one of those 
bright yet tranquil scenes, which, when we are far 
away from home, fill us with a quiet pleasure, strangely 
1111110*166 with sadness. 

n 

Beyond the calm Bay of Byukdere the landscape 
opens on a narrow channel, gliding towards the Sea 
of Marmora, which joins the Bosphorus, so frequently® 
described, so invariably overrated as to natural beau¬ 
ties. This channel divides, as it were, European 
Turkey from Asia Minor; and as I look on the Black 
Sea in the distance, beyond the limit of its entrance, 
guarded by the castles or forts called Romeli and 
Anadoli Karak, what memories of the past, with its 
war and bloodshed, crowd on my thoughts 1 How 
manv a brave and noble-hearted lad, fresh from 
Eton, Harrow, or Westminster, or other public resort 
of education, sailed between these two ancient relics 
of Turkey as it was, with a young soldier's spirit, 
high in hope of victory and promotion, never to 
return, while sadness crushed the mother's heart at 
home ! Could we but read the thoughts and analyse 
the feelings, even at the hour that I write these pages 
•—though years have elapsed, and the present, blended 
with the past, has almost blotted out the word Crimea, 
—we should find sorrow still lingering on many a 
hearth of which he who came there, no more to 
receive the warm embraces of home, sweet home, 


BYUKDERE. 


97 


was perhaps the first-born, the only one, and the 
pride. 

“ Those happy hours have pass’d away, 

And many a heart that then was gay, 

Within the tomb now darkly dwells.” 

But from Therapia to the capital is only thirteen 
miles; steamboats, during eight months of the year, 
ply almost every hour up and down the Bosphorus, 
touching at different points or villages on the European 
as on the Asiatic shores of the Bosphorus, as do our 
Thames river boats, yet very differently managed; 
so that you may say you have been from Europe to 
Asia in less than a quarter of an hour. Unfor¬ 
tunately, this river traffic—if river it can be called— 
is a monopoly; and as monopolies are always detri¬ 
mental to the public welfare, I leave the world to 
imagine and calculate the gains and the discomforts 
of a Turkish monopoly. Nevertheless, this mode of 
visiting either Therapia or Byukdere—the fashionable 
(odious though the word) summer resort of the mixed 
aristocracy of all nations who inhabit the City of the 
Sultan during winter—is, if not the pleasantest, un¬ 
questionably the best means of seeing the far-famed 
shores of the Bosphorus. 

These boats also ply with some regularity during 
the winter season, though few, I imagine, dare trust 
themselves to a winter at either Therapia or Byukdere; 
for were not all the natural beauties by which you are 

7 


98 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


surrounded at midsummer-time converted into prac¬ 
tical beasts by the severity and storms of midwinter, 
I doubt if there be a house at either place weather¬ 
proof : for although that which in the East, if not 
elsewhere, is considered luxury may abound in the 
palace of a sultan, or a grand vizier, or a wealthy 
pacha, I doubt if the word Comfort is to be found in 
the Turkish dictionary; and if so, it is unquestionably 
neither understood nor acted on. 

For my own part, I prefer taking mine ease while 
reclining in a caique with a small rosewood pipe— 
filled with simple “ bird's-eye," though in the land of 
Turkish tobacco—in my mouth, or trusting myself on 
the back of a sure-footed pony, and scampering over 
the hills,—for there is a road, so called, to Therapia 
and Byukdere. In such case, however, the trip is 
marvellously expensive, unless you have a friend who 
may chance to possess a caique or a pony, which, in 
the East, means a carriage or a horse; for a caique is 
literally used as a carriage on the Bosphorus, and the 
expense of maintaining it with caigees or rowers is 
nearly as great. But at Constantinople, as in London, 
a friend must be a friend indeed who lends you 
either. 

Calmly as you repose amidst the scenes I have 
briefly described, two short hours or less, and you 
find yourself in the most remarkable scene of noise. 


GRANDE RUE DE PERA 


99 


bustle, and discontent in Europe,—the capital of the 
Light of the World, his Majesty the Sultan Abdul 
Aziz. This is the year of our Lord 1865, yet all 
things in and about Constantinople appear to date 
from the Crimean war; indeed, when referring to 
some question of the past, the reply not seldom comes 
to those who may not previously have visited the 
Eastern capital, “ Oh, you should have been here be¬ 
fore the war ! All is changed since then.” For my 
own part—having been there ere the British troops 
landed at Gallipoli, and twenty times since the battle 
of the Alma—I can only say, that if the Turks who 
lived and loved previous to the present century were 
to rise from their graves, they might possibly exclaim 
—not, “Oh, Allah be praised!”—but, (C Why hast 
thou so discomforted us?” 

Of all the cities on which the bright sun of 
heaven shines, or the snowstorm casts its desolation 
and discomfort, I know not one—and I have again 
and again visited all the capitals of Europe—wherein 
may be seen so heterogeneous a mass of human 
beings, particularly on the Sabbath, as that which 
perambulates the “ Grande Rue de Pera,” the Regent 
Street, in fact, of the Frank portion of the Turkish 
capital. Heaven help those who may chance to find 
themselves amid this mass of folly, extravagance, 
and vanity ! I will not use harsher terms. Happily, 

7 —% 


100 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


most happily, my countrymen—I would certainly add 
countrywomen—form but a small minority in this, I 
believe, pleasure-seeking crowd, composed of almost 
every European nation. 

What vile imitations of Parisian bonnets—what 

shawls and capes of cotton velvet and imitation lace— 

what flowers and crinolines—what attempts at an 

elegant chaussure —what varnished boots, ostentation, 

vulgarity, and ill-breeding—crowded together under 

a glorious sun, or weltering ankle-deep in mud and 

mire ! In fact, I know of no public thoroughfare on 

earth where a display of spurious wealth—if I may so 

term it—is more revolting to every sense of pleasure 

than that to be met with in the crowded streets of 

Pera, in this the year 1865. In fact, though I would 

say it in all charity, the stranger fresh from more 

civilized lands and associations actually shrinks with 

a feeling of disgust from the mixed crowd amongst 

whom he finds himself. And were I unkind enough 

to draw up the curtain and open the street door 

which admits vou into the domiciles of two-thirds 
*/ 

of this ostentatiouslv bedecked and over-dressed as- 

i/ 

sembly, on a week day, I fear your feelings of admira¬ 
tion, your sense of refinement, would be frightfully 
shocked by a picture of slipshod discontent, dirt, and 
apparent poverty, amalgamating in no possible manner 
with the feathers, follies, and desecration of the Sabbath. 


TURKISH TOBACCO. 


101 


Moreover, Constantinople at the present hour is 
one of the most, if not the most, expensive and dis¬ 
honest cities in Europe, though devoid of luxury and 
utterly unconscious of comfort; and if the traveller 
with a slender purse and simple means should venture 
there, he will soon find that while half the interest in 
visiting an Eastern city as it formerly existed has 
vanished, the whole of his means will soon vanish 
also, and his humble wants be but ill supplied. Let 
him only presume to remark that he can live with 
tenfold more comfort, and half the outlay, in any 
other city in Europe, he will be either laughed at for 
coming there at all, or told with derision he is neither 
in London nor Paris. 

Tobacco, the Turk’s hourly luxury, if not necessity, 
only a few years since was to be purchased at the rate 
of about eight shillings an oke, or about three shillings 
a pound, and this of the best quality: it is now diffi¬ 
cult. to obtain it with any flavour for less than twenty- 
five shillings an oke, or about eight shillings a pound. 
All articles sold in the bazaars of Stamboul are also 
greatly risen in price, and for the few specimens of 
Turkish art—such as table-covers, said to be em¬ 
broidered by female hands; pipes and pipe-sticks, and 
here and there an ancient relic—once within the reach 
of moderate means,—objects of luxury, in fact, an 
exorbitant price is demanded. AV ho becomes the 


102 


THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 


purchaser, I dare not assert; certainly not the 
stranger with limited means—possibly the most 
recent possessor of a “ concession” to make a railway 
to the moon, or an iron bridge over the Bosphorus. 

For the benefit of the traveller who may chance to 
visit the City of the Sultan, I am now desirous with 
the most honest and kindly feeling towards those who 
labour for the bread of life, to speak awhile on the 
subject of hotels in the Frank portion of the city, 
called Pera. After mentioning the word “ hotel,” it 
may seem a paradox that I boldly declare there are no 
hotels. “No hotels! The fellow must be mad, or 
how dare he make so false an assertion?” I hear 
uttered by a thousand tongues. Calm yourselves, 
gentlemen ; I repeat, there are no hotels,—at least, as 
I understand the meaning of an hotel—and as you 
will find to your cost, should chance, or pleasure, or 
duty, or aught else induce you to look on the minarets 
of Stamboul, linger for an hour in the mosque of St. 
Sophia, or make your way amid a motley Sunday 
crowd at Pera. 

There is the so-called “ Hotel d’Ang'leterre,” and 
the “ Byzance,” and the Hotel de l’Europe,” and the 
“ Orient,” and a host of other hotels, where the 
traveller may rest without being thankful, or a richer 
man for his attempt at economy, when he pays 
his bill; simply they are one and all “ boarding 


HOTELS. 


103 


houses/* and not hotels. This fact I shall endeavour, 
in a few lines, to make perfectly clear. 

You arrive, as all the travelling world must arrive, 
at Constantinople by steam-packet, unless you have 
sufficient pluck or curiosity to cross the Balkan range 
coming from Belgrade. You entrust your precious 
body in a miserable, dirty boat, or a frail caique, in 
which, if yoube not an Ambassador, a Pacha, or a Boyal 
messenger, you are landed at the Custom-house. After 
having paid your caigce , or boatman, about three times 
the amount charged by an honest Thames waterman 
for rowing you about twice the distance, having 
nothing in your portmanteau whatever but the com¬ 
mon necessaries of a travellers wardrobe, you give 
lahshe —or, in plain English, a tip—to a dirty official, 
for the unnecessary trouble he has given you. Your 
beloninrms are then hoisted on the back of an athletic 
Turk or Armenian, called a “ haumel/*—that is to say, 
a biped with the power of a quadruped; and having 
previously selected a boarding-house at which you 
intend to reside, you follow him as calmly as your 
natural temper admits through the odious streets of 
Galata or Pera. Your luggage being deposited, you 
pay your biped about treble the price of cab hire 
from London Bridge to the Waterloo station, and then 
commences the knowledge that you are not at an 
hotel, but a boarding-house. 


104 THE QUEERS MESSENGER. 

This practical, or I would rather say, pecuniary fact, 
realizes itself the very moment your portmanteau is 
placed in the apartment you are permitted to select, 
which then becomes, as it were, your property during 
your sojourn in the capital. True your portman¬ 
teau neither eats nor drinks, neither is it necessary 
that you should eat or drink, or even sleep in this 
apartment; yet it is absolutely necessary that you 
should pay so much per diem, precisely the same as 
those who take their meals diurnally, and add to the 
number of sheets and towels which find their way to 
the weekly wash-tub. 

You may perchance have brought letters of intro¬ 
duction to some kind and hospitable countrymen, who 
possess pleasant villas on the banks of the Bosphorus; 
you may be well known to the Ministers of the va¬ 
rious diplomatic corps; you may be a personal friend 
of his Excellency the representative of Her Majesty 
Queen Victoria, or your position and amiability of 
character may secure you attention and hospitality. 
Gastronomy, if not precisely of Parisian or Belgravian 
excellence, may consequently be daily offered to you 
during a fortnight’s residence; breakfasts, dinners, 
suppers, even beds, may be placed at yc-ur disposal. 
You accept them, preferring well-bred society and 
female presence to a mixed company, and not seldom 
a greasy repast, at a table cVhote —for good, or even 


ANECDOTE OF A CRIMEAN GENERAL. 105 


eatable batter is a rarity, if, indeed, it is ever obtain¬ 
able, in the East. Nevertheless, your portmanteau is 
taking its ease at your inn or boarding-house, though 
you take nothing, save the knowledge that you will 
have to pay about sixteen shillings a day for having 
crossed the threshold with your belongings; while if 
you do join the gastronomic gatherings at stated times, 
and find it necessary, for health's sake or from taste 
or habit, to imbibe a glass or two of indifferent wine 
at your meals, your sixteen shillings are soon con¬ 
verted into twentv. 

%/ 

On or about the termination of the Crimean war a 
somewhat amusing story was abroad with reference 
to one of these boarding-houses, which I believe to 
have been perfectly correct; it will serve well to 
illustrate that which I have written. 

An illustrious general, gone from among us, having 
arrived from Balaklava, was ushered into an apart¬ 
ment in which there were two beds, the landlord at 
the same time apologizing that it was the only good 
room he had to offer him. “No need of apology/' 
said the gallant soldier ; “ it is clean and airy, that is 
all I require; and although I cannot sleep on two 
beds at once, if the one is too hard or too soft, I can 
try the other." After a week's residence he called for 
his bill, when, to his astonishment, he found he was 
charged for two rooms, two breakfasts, and two din- 


106 THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 

ners daily. In fact, he was requested to pay for two 
persons. 

Having remonstrated on what, with some reason, 
he considered a great imposition, he was simply in¬ 
formed, that as he had occupied a room with two beds, 
and there was a great demand for apartments, he 
prevented others coming to the house. This was 
conclusive—he paid the hill; but the following morn¬ 
ing he went into the street, and calling to the first 
ill-clad, hungry, and miserable individual he beheld, 
he said, “ Here, my man, do you want a good 
breakfast?" 

“ I believe you, my boy !" would, I fancy, be a free 
translation of the man's reply. So forthwith the 
general ushered his guest into the grand saloon, where 
numerous officers and other travellers were assembled, 
and begging him to be seated, ordered tea and toast, 
and e<rgs and beefsteaks for two. His sruest, beino* 
of the very lowest order—in extreme poverty, and 
ill-clad—as may be readily supposed, neither smelt 
like a moss rose, nor were his hands of that delicate 
texture which generally bespeaks both civilization and 
good breeding. 

Ah ! had Hogarth been there, what a picture he 
might have drawn of that assembly!—the various 
costumes gathered around the breakfast-table, officers 
and civilians—but, above all, the varied expressions 


A LANDLORD DONE FOR. 


107 


on the faces of those who sat at the board,—young 
joyous subalterns and captains, homeward bound after 
the glories and hardships of a campaign and victories 
won; the traveller, come for amusement; and various 
others of all denominations there seated together. 
Subdued laughter, I fancy, was the unanimous ex¬ 
pression, for the general was well known. Not so, 
however, on the faces of the landlord or the waiters, 
on which doubtless might have been seen a mixture 
of subdued anger and consternation, and probably 
such was the thought of the former :— 

“ Is this, my celebrated hotel, thus to be humiliated 
and insulted by the presence of such a guest ?” inquired 
the landlord. Remonstrance, however calmly offered, 
was of no avail. “I yesterday,” said the general, 
“ paid my bill for a week's board and lodging for two 
persons; I shall probably remain another week, and 
if I am to pay the same, I intend to have a guest 
daily. This gentleman does me the honour of break- 
fasting with me this morning; I am glad to find his 
appetite is so good.—Waiter ! another beefsteak.” 

Laughter ’ rang throughout the saloon, and hence¬ 
forth, I believe, the gallant officer paid single fare. 

I have given this tale simply as I have heard it; 
doubtless this method of charging was, and may be 
is, the universal custom of all boarding-houses. I 
was not present, and I only do justice to the landlord 


10S 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


of that to which I have alluded, when I assert him to 
he a highly respectable person, and most obliging, 
while his wife is deservedly a general favourite. 

In this, the year 1865, the two best boarding¬ 
houses in Constantinople are those called the Hotel 
d'Angleterre, and the Byzance. They are both re¬ 
markably clean and comfortable, and, as far as in their 
power rests, the food they offer to their guests is good 
and plentiful—the cook at the latter decidedly the 
best. But in spite of all that, the system is bad and 
expensive, and utterly at variance with the customs 
of hotels in almost every city in Europe. 

With regard to the other hotels or boarding-houses 
in Constantinople, of which the name is legion, never 
having been behind the scenes, I can be no just judge 
of their pretensions, and therefore venture not to draw 
up the curtain : comparisons are never pleasant—not 
always correct or charitable, without practical proof. 
Ere closing the subject, however, I would desire to 
name that there are two really very pleasant and re¬ 
markably clean and well ordered boarding-houses at 
Therapia and Byukdere, which during the summer 
are generally thronged. They are both, I believe, the 
property of a very respectable Greek, married to an 
Englishwoman of whom I cannot speak too highly. 
That at Therapia is perhaps the most agreeable as a 
residence; you may land at its portals from a caique, 


BOARDING HOUSES. 


109 


as you do in Venice from a gondola. The view from 
the windows is charming; the living perhaps the best 
to be had in the East; and the bathing in the Bos¬ 
phorus, which flows by the hotel, very agreeable. 
Moreover, you are generally supplied with fresh butter 
for breakfast; a luxury beyond price in the East. 


CHAPTER VII. 


Constantinople continued —lady craven’s description of 

THE SEA OF MARMORA—GREAT SCARCITY OP TIMBER AROUND 
THE CITY OF THE SULTAN—CONSTANTINOPLE A COMPOUND OF 
MAGNIFICENCE AND MEANNESS—HABITS OF THE SULTAN— 
APPEARANCE OF TURKISH SOLDIERS—WOMEN IN TURKEY— 
NECESSITY OF SWEEPING REFORMS—BAD SUPPLY OF WATER 
—THE DOG NUISANCE—THE RACE-COURSE—IMPORTANCE OF 
RAILWAYS TO TURKEY—ANECDOTES OF LIFE IN TURKEY— 
THE VARIOUS ROUTES BY WHICH CONSTANTINOPLE MAY BE 
VISITED. 

At the commencement of these sketches or life ad¬ 
ventures^ my object was, and continues to be, solely 
that of placing before my readers various practical 
pictures and anecdotes of places and people as they 
have been in days past, but more particularly as they 
now are seen, with the eye of a matter-of-fact and 
simple truth-telling traveller. I have not the smallest 
desire to convert a pleasant landscape into a gorgeous 
picture of nature, or to transform a stuccoed palace, 
because it chances to be the residence of a sultan, 
into one of marble, as depicted in the “ Arabian 
Nights.” To me, a gilded caique is but a gilded 


BOATMEN ON THE BOSPHORUS. 


ill 


caique—a graceful form of boat, unquestionably well 
suited to the smooth waters of the Bosphorus, when 
they are smooth—a wherry, in fact, in which one 
reclines on a soft cushion with an inch of deal under 
you, with one or more athletic and bronzed Armenians 
or Turks as rowers, who puff and blow, and pull you 
rapidly through the water. During summer-time 
they wear very slight muslin shirts, the texture of 
which many writers have dwelt upon; it is thin, and 
well suited to the climate. I believe our boatmen in 
Old England wear cotton shirts; they are wise, as 
cotton is less expensive than muslin, and also suited 
to the climate; in fact, there is very little difference 
between the caigee and the Thames wherryman, save 
that the one may charge you possibly sixpence for 
crossing the Thames, whereas the other charges you 
half a crown for crossing the Bosphorus. If I met a 
very fat pacha, in a red fez or skull-cap, disguised as 
a Frank, in a surtout buttoned up to his throat, 
mounted on a very small but perhaps handsome little 
Arab horse, with a cavass or attendant running and 
perspiring by his side, he is to me simply a very fat 
Turkish man on a very small horse; and while I 
think it would do him far more good to walk, and that 
his Arab would make a nice little park hack, I also 
think how far more comfortable he must be when un¬ 
buttoned, in his dressing-gown, with a pipe in his 



112 THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 

mouth; but I can discover nothing romantic about 
him, nor do I believe him to be a hero—certainly not 
so to his valet de cliambre . 

“ There are things/*' says Goethe, “ which you do 
not notice because you do not look at them." et All 
the leaves on an oak tree, all the faces in a flock, are 
the same to the ordinary eye ; but the naturalist can 
find no two leaves exactly alike, and the shepherd can 
distinguish every face in his flock by some original 
peculiarity thus writes a celebrated author. Now 
I am neither a naturalist nor a shepherd, but I am ail 
observer; and although I bow to these great autho¬ 
rities, and admit their observations to be correct, it is 
equally true that if you spoke with fifty persons, all 
of whom may have visited the same localities—all 
• having the same power to describe them in writing,— 
I believe you would scarcely find two descriptions 

similar, solely that, as Goethe says, you do not notice 

% 

because you do not look at them, or if you do, it is 
only a cursory glance, soon effaced from memory, or 
distorted by an over-zealous imagination. To me, an 
oak tree is an oak tree, and a mosque a mosque; but 
I prefer a splendid oak tree even to the mosque of St. 
Sophia : the one is God's work ; the other man's. I 
should be able to describe the splendid oak tree, or 
sketch it, far better than the mosque. 

In all I w r rite I desire as far as possible, though it 


LADY ELIZABETH CRAVEN. 


113 


is a very difficult taslc, to consider that’I am speaking 
to my readers, telling them, in fact, of how I came 
here, and how I went there, and what I saw, and 
what were the feelings inspired. I do not for one 
moment imagine that others should think and feel as 
I, or come to the same conclusions. I do not decide 
that a place is odious, or an hotel admirable, because 
I have visited the one under disagreeable circum- 
stances, or had a good dinner and bed at the other. 
To me there is no class of literature more pleasant, 
and not many classes of literature more instructive, 
than that in which a man who has mixed long with 
the world, and gained experience by foreign travel— 
his education, in fact, daily going on, while he is 
ever learning—endeavours to teach something to 
his neighbour. 

Fourscore years have elapsed since a very agreeable 
volume—a series of letters, in fact, from the East— 
was written by Lady Elizabeth Craven. If memory 
fail me not, she thus gives her sketch of the entrance 
to the Bosphorus, and view of Constantinople, coming 
by the Sea of Marmora :— 

“ Constantinople, and the entrance of the Bos¬ 
phorus by the Sea of Marmora, is the most majestic, 
magnificent, graceful, and truly lively scene the most 
luxuriant imagination can desire to behold.” 

Truly her imagination must have been most luxu- 

8 


114 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


riant! Again she says : “It is no wonder Constantine 
chose it for the seat of his empire. Nature has com¬ 
posed of earth and water such a landscape, that taste, 
unassisted by ambitious reflections, would naturally 
desire to give the picture living graces." 

I perfectly agree with her ladyship—who thus ex¬ 
presses herself in or about the year 1784, while I 
write in 1864—that nature has indeed done much, 
where man has done so little. Moreover, it would be 
vastly agreeable if such a city as Paris or London 
were planted on that Eastern shore, and one could 
step into a caique, and look on the blue Sea of Mar¬ 
mora, when it is blue, and the Prince's Islands and 
Mount Olympus, from the Bois de Boulogne or the 
Champs Elysdes; or smoke one's chibouke beneath 
the shade of glorious trees, like those of Kensington 
Gardens, with the knowledge that for the outlay of a 
shilling in cab hire, you might dress. for dinner in 
Belgravia. But I speak of Constantinople, not as 
what it might be, but as it is; and I assert that 
“ majestic" and “ magnificent" can never be true as 
regards a landscape where the hills do not approach 
to mountains, and where there is no large timber— 
indeed, a great scarcity of trees; though “ graceful" 
.and full of life the scene undoubtedly is on a fine, 
calm summer's day. 

Now let us hear what another traveller says of this 


A TRAVELLER'S OPINION OP CONSTANTINOPLE. 115 

scene ofttimes described, and then tlie Koyal mes¬ 
senger shall speak for himself. 

“ At last Constantinople rose in all its grandeur 
before us; with eyes riveted on the expanding splen¬ 
dours, I watched, as they rose out of the bosom of the 
surrounding waters, the pointed minarets, the swell¬ 
ing cupolas, and the innumerable habitations, either 
stretching along the jagged shore, or reflecting their 
image in the mirror of the deep, or creeping up the 
crested mountain, and tracing their outline in the 
expanse of the sky. 

(i At first agglomerated in a single confused mass, 
the lesser parts of the immense whole seemed, as we 
advanced, by degrees to unfold themselves, and to 
disengage themselves from each other, and to grow 
into various groups, divided by wide chasms and deep 
indentures, until at last the cluster, still distinctly 
connected, became transformed, as if by magic, into 
three distinct cities, each individually of prodigious 
size and extent, each separated from the other, too, 
by a wide arm of the sea, whose silver tide encom¬ 
passed their base and made its vast circuit rest half 
in Europe, half in Asia. 

“ Entranced by the magnificent spectacle, I felt as 
if all the faculties of my soul were insufficient to em¬ 
brace its glories. I had scarcely power to breathe, 
and almost apprehended that in doing so I might 

8—2 


116 


THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 


dispel the glorious vision, and find its whole fabric 
only a delusive dream.” 

A delusive dream it must have been indeed, to 
have enabled the brightest eyes that ever flashed 
from the face of fair woman to see such a picture, 
and a grand imagination which created such glories 
where they do not exist. As for the silver tide, there 
is no tide; and although Scutari is termed a city, it is 
simply a chaos of miserable wooden houses, broken 
here and there by a mosque or minaret. 

However, different persons judge differently of the 
same places, and I can only say, as do the Turks, 
“ Afiert olsuri,”—May it do them good. 

During the Crimean war it was the fortune of a 
royal messenger—whether for good or evil I do not 
venture to assert—to leave London once—indeed, if 
I am not incorrect, twice—each week, for Constanti¬ 
nople ; for which of his sins I know not, but the 
writer of these notes found himself there on or about 
five-and-twenty times. He has visited the City of 
the Sultan when the snow lay thick on the surround¬ 
ing scenery; he has lingered there day after day when 
the brightest and bluest of skies, cloudless and clear, 
gladdened the heart of man; he has looked on the 
city when the keenest north-easter, after rushing 
across the steppes of Russia, came up like a hurricane 
from the Black Sea, causing the Bosphorus to boil 


THE STREETS OF STAMBOUL. 


117 


and toss like a troubled ocean, preventing all inter¬ 
course with the Asiatic shore; he has been there when 
the fresh green of spring has caused all nature to put 
on its brightest aspect; and yet he never could find 
fault with the traveller—for there was such a traveller 
—who, arriving opposite the so-called “ gorgeous city 
of palaces” one fine summer’s morning, looked on its 
mosques and minarets ; but, never putting foot on the 
rugged and disgusting streets of Pera, Galata, or 
Stamboul, sailed for other scenes. I say this man 
must have carried away and retained far pleasanter 
memories of the city and the scene which he be¬ 
held than any author who has ever written on the 
subject, though his practical illustration of Constan¬ 
tinople would have been utterly incorrect as seen only 
from the sea during fine weather, in that particular 
instance. Not that there are not remarkable na¬ 
tural beauties on the shores of the Bosphorus, but 
the impression on first beholding them during varied 
periods of the year, though of a totally different cha¬ 
racter, can beqr no more comparison, as regards 
actual richness and beauty, to the view from liicli- 
mond Hill or the banks of the Thames in our father- 
land, on a bright summer’s or clear winter’s day, than 
does a barren Bussian plain to a fertile vale of Italy. 
Moreover, there are many other spots near at hand, 
scarcely ever mentioned, which greatly surpass any 


118 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


scenery in or about Constantinople. And I scarcely 
know of one more beautiful than that seen from the 
mountains of Corfu—a very garden of an island, pro¬ 
bably ere this become an abode of discontent, discom¬ 
fort, and disorder. 

Magnificent as the first view of Constantinople is 
declared to be, it has none of those soft, rich, calm 
home beauties, caused by gardens, woodlands, high 
cultivation, and flowing rivers, combining a picture 
of wealth, civilization, and repose. The outlines of 
the hills are not grand, but harsh and bare of trees, 
though here and there a dark cypress grove or some 
scattered brushwood relieves the eye,—pleasant during 
the early fresh green of summer, but intensely mono¬ 
tonous when the later heats scorch up every blade of 
vegetation. 

Admitting, however, the many natural beauties of 
the scene taken as a whole, it would be difficult for 
any imagination, however romantic or distempered, 
to describe in practical truth all the incongruous and 
discordant objects which meet the eye and offend the 
senses after an hour's ramble on shore. 

Not all the charms of a golden sunset behind the 
snowy crests of Mount Olympus, reflected on the 
calm blue Sea of Marmora—if so be you are sufficiently 
fortunate to behold it under such auspices,—neither 
the marble dome of St. Sophia, nor the gilded pinna- 


THE SULTAN ABDUL AZIZ. 


119 


cles of the Seraglio (recently burnt, but to be rebuilt), 
nor the so-described perpetual groves of verdure— 
which mean dark cypress trees,—nor the spiry mina¬ 
rets of a hundred mosques, can efface from the mind 
the barbarous extremes of attempted magnificence, 
iumbled together with the atrocious effects of unre¬ 
strained sensuality, dishonesty, and discomfort. 

In the early portion of these pages I ventured to 
assert that the Eastern character of this vast city, 
which not many years since created so much interest 
to him who came from far distant but more civilized 
lands, had passed away, leaving none of the hoped-for 
results of reformation, and the advance of civilization, 
from a nearer contact—through the power of steam, 
telegrams, and the press—with the great cities of the 
Continent. I now boldly repeat, that evil, rather 
than good, has so far only been effected by this in¬ 
tended reformation. 

It may be possible, nay, doubtless is the fact, that 
the Sultan Abdul Aziz has none of those immoral 
tendencies or unrestrained and odious passions and 
pursuits which brought Abdul Medjid to an early and 
miserable grave. Yet what has he done, or what is 
he doing, for the benefit of Turkey in general, or his 
capital in particular ? 

He has built, at great cost, various line-of-battle 
ships and frigates, and is building more—utterly 


120 


THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 


useless, which nevertheless add marvellously to the 
beauty of the scene, anchored as they are, for the 
most part, in the Bosphorus, before the windows of 
his palace, where they lie, ill-manned and rotting, 
and at the same time greatly impeding all commercial 
navigation during the winter months. 

It is true that, for his own gratification, he has 
purchased, at an immense outlay, a beautiful steam 
yacht, recently arrived from England, now also at 
anchor before the palace windows, side by side with a 
larger one recently purchased. These are splendidly 
fitted up, and are generally used' for sporting ex¬ 
cursions and trips of pleasure on the Sea of Marmora. 
His Majesty is a sportsman. He has also a private 
jeweller in Paris, who supplies him with baubles called 
diamonds, and other precious stones, and to whom he 
also sends jewels from the East, to be set in accordance 
with the last Parisian fashion. 

He has disguised some hundreds of athletic Turks 
in the uniform of Zouaves. Alas ! poor men, they 
are much discomfited, being called on to act in this 
military pantomime; and when the passer by looks 
with curiosity or astonishment on this absurd mimicry 
of the brave soldiers of France (not that the Turk is 
not brave), the very wearers of these red baggy 
breeches look down at their own persons, and smiling, 
seem to say, “ Behold me; am I not a fine specimen 
of the owl in the feathers of a peacock ?” 


REFORMS. 


121 


Reforms such as these, if such follies can be so 
read, are what the people of England and elsewhere 
do not hear of in their naked reality, but read of as 
Turkish advances to civilization and progress. The 
“ light of the world” is also given to building palaces, 
as was his predecessor, with here and there a massive 
barrack. Meanwhile, the streets of the capital are 
all but impassable. Not only the luxuries, but things 
which are absolute necessities to the Turk, are highly 
taxed, and the rich produce of the unexampled soil of 
the Sultanas kingdom is lost to the use of his people, 
as to the world, from want of transport to the interior; 
while the capital is overwhelmed with the worst and 
most tawdry quality of European goods, sold at an 
exorbitant price. And vanity, immorality, specula¬ 
tion, and peculation live and thrive amid depravity 
and wretchedness. 

Not all the proposed reforms, not all the diplomacy 
in the world, not all the despatches, though emanating 
from the brightest genius that ever took pen in hand, 
can advance by one iota the benefits of the Turkish 
people or the Turkish nation—I say not individuals— 
till the “ Yatchmack,” or veil, falls from the faces of 
the women, and they become, instead of the mere 
animals and slaves they now are to men's passions 
and lusts, their lovers, friends, and daily associates,— 
in fact, till they are each of them the wife—in the 


122 THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 

true acceptation of the word wife-—of one man who 
has no other wife. Till then there will be no real 
civilization in Turkey, though the Turk may wear a 
coat made in Paris or London, and speak both English 
and French, eat with a silver fork instead of his 
fingers, and quaff champagne or pale ale. 

I have heard it asserted that there is no country 
where women enjoy so much liberty as in Turkey. A 
Turkish husband who sees a pair of slippers at the 
door of his harem is not permitted to enter; his 
respect for the sex prevents him from intruding when 
a stranger is there on a visit, and it is thus supposed 
easy for men to pay such visits disguised as women. 
I certainly should not like to run the risk for the 
brightest pair of eyes in the Sultan's dominions. 

And, after all, what avails this so-called liberty, 
without love and civilized intercourse? Who would 
care to pass a day in the society of one utterly with¬ 
out education, or any of the pleasing accomplishments 
or associations of society—a mere female slave, who 
passes her time in admiring her jewels or painting 
her finger-nails? 

If the position of the women of Turkey is a bar 
to all reform and civilization, in a still stronger 
language it may be asserted that until the Sultan 
ceases to squander millions on useless ships, disguised 
Zouaves, baubles, and uncalled-for baksliees or pre- 


TURKISH WOMEN. 


123 


sents (for day by day we hear of the Sultanas generosity 
from his private purse—his private purse, indeed! 
it simply means the revenue of the Empire)—and opens 
out the treasures of his rich and vast dominions by 
roads and railways, hoping for prosperity or reform is 
like a child crying for the moon. At present there 
are not twenty miles of road in the whole empire; 
but were the country thus opened, an industrial people 
might place the nation in a position of commercial 
prosperity and opulence, which its natural productions 
demand from the hand of man. And it is strange 
indeed, in the days of enlightenment in which we 
live, to look on nature in all her grace and beauty 
stretching out her liberal hand to industry, and not 
wish to do her justice. 

As a proof of these sentiments I have only recently 
seen the following extract from a French paper pub¬ 
lished in Constantinople :—“ Letters from Teheran 
announce that the most imperative instructions have 
been given that the Persian caravans should take the 
route of Tiflis and Poti, and not that of Beyerid and 
Trebizonde.” 

The Russians ought to rejoice at this change; it 
will cause a shower of gold to fall on the inhabitants 
of Georgia. It has been calculated that a single cara¬ 
van has expended on the road 280,000 piastres. 

It would have been greatly to the advantage of 


124 


THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 


• 

tlie Ottoman Government liad they facilitated the 
means of transit through the Turkish provinces; but 
the bye-ways called roads are impassable; haunted 
also by brigands, with a quarantine at the termination 
of the journey, of which no one can explain the 
necessity, while the Russian Government have acted 
with reason. 

To continue, liow pleasant it would be to see the 
establishment of manufactories such as abound on the 
continent of Europe, opening a fair and free trade in 
the East, teaching industry and honesty to the people, 
rousing the indolent Turk from his apathetic slumbers, 
and carrying fair Liberty in her smiling sails as she 
passes through the Archipelago and Mediterranean to 
our shores! 

Meanwhile, I cannot but think that the improved 
efficacy of the army, though only local, tlie outward 
appearance of the soldier caused by a gorgeous uniform, 
is ephemeral. The enlargement of the fleet, the 
Sultan’s new yacht, and the slight increase of the 
revenue, though all doubtless adding to the power of 
Turkey in their way—are by no means increasing the 
comfort, civilization, or happiness of the Turkish 
people. In fact, are not all these Turkish reforms 
rather precocious ? Had the money so expended, or 
half the money so expended, in converting miserable- 
looking though brave Turkish soldiers into French 


TURKISH ZOUAVES. 125 

masqueraders been saved, or had half these soldiers been 
made available as those of Napoleon I. were made use¬ 
ful in constructing roads throughout the land, I ques¬ 
tion if the advantage to the revenue would not have 
been such as to have dressed them in due time as life 
guards or horse marines (no offence to one of the 
noblest corps in the British service); in addition to 
which, all who have any knowledge of the character 
of the Turk are well aware, that the moment vou 
dress him as a soldier, and cause him to believe he is 
a necessary appendage to the State, eight times out 
of ten he loses all the peaceful quiet habits natural to 
the civilized Turk, and henceforth embraces all the 
worst habits of the nation. 

Not being desirous to consider these reforms purely 
theoretical or untrue, though such is generally the 
case as regards Turkish reforms, I may observe that 
while Turks are being dressed as Zouaves, while num¬ 
berless ships of war have been built and are building— 
for what purpose, who dare say ?—there is but one 
reservoir to supply the whole population of the capital 
with water; and that water, though by no means of 
an unhealthy character, is so coloured by the earthy 
substance through which it passes, that, although not 
unpalatable, it is to a stranger, accustomed to the pure 
and sparkling springs of home, as would be the waters 
from an English ditch. Putting this trifling fact 


126 


THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 


aside, however, the result of this limited allowance is 
ofttimes disastrous, as subsequent to a great drought, 
which has only recently been experienced, the demand 
far exceeds the supply; and the aid of wells and foun¬ 
tains is so greatly needed, that during the midnight 
hours of summer hundreds of the poorer classes may 
he seen squabbling and struggling, ay, and fighting 
for a drop of water to quench their thirst, to say 
nothing of their wants for culinary purposes; while 
the rich, and those having the means, pay largely to 
obtain the necessary supply for their daily wants. 
What would be the feelings in Old England, or in any 
Continental town, if the principal street for the traffic 
of the city were all but impassable during the winter 
months, from filth, mud, and mire, ankle deep, and 
from its rough and atrocious pavement for the remain¬ 
ing portion of the year ? True that Pera is indiffe¬ 
rently lighted with gas, but the dogs and the dead 
cats—and the live ones—are on the increase, and 
until such time as habit enables you to shut your ears 
to incessant bowlings and squallings, sleep at night is 
out of the question ; and when daylight does appear, 
and you turn on your pillow with the hope of an 
hour’s quiet repose, a confusion of diabolical street 
cries assails your ears. Ah, ye dear comrades and 
friends of my fatherland! Oh, Mr. Punch! you 
should be punished by a month’s residence in the City 


THE PLAGUE OF DOGS. 


127 


of the Sultan, if only that on your return you might 
welcome the grinding of a street organ, even out of 
tune, when calling to mind the savage bowlings and 
screechings with which your ears have been nightly 
assailed in the Eastern capital. 

At Stamboul — Constantinople proper, in fact— 
where you go up, up, up, and then down, down, down, 
luckily if not on your head, one of the last great re¬ 
forms set forth by command of his Majesty the 
Sultan is, that every inhabitant shall stick a candle or 
an oil lamp in his window, to light the passer by, 
who may perchance have swallowed too much mastic 
or racki, to his chaste home and harem. I know not 
if it be another reform, but I actually saw two of the 
coachmen, who drive the gilded carriages of the Sultan’s 

or Pacha’s wives, dressed in the most absurd knee- 

* 

breeches and atrocious top-boots, to which were at¬ 
tached spurs with harmless rowels, though on the 
coach-box. 

It is, however, to be hoped that, as the revenue is 
said to be increased and increasing, some of the surplus 
may be available, not for the purchase of diamonds or 
garnets, or the building of ships, but for the supply 
of the poorer classes with wholesome and abundant 
water, cleansing and paving the disgusting streets, 
highways and byways, and lighting the citizens of 
Stamboul to their downy couches by gas. 


128 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


Regardless of these monstrous defects in his capital, 
Abdul Aziz leans to European comforts and European 
pleasures; moreover, in his way he is a sportsman, in 
season, ay, and out of season. I fancy he is in no 
manner averse to a day's duck or woodcock shooting, 
or any other game, at any time : and for this laudable 
purpose, surrounded with luxuries, he seeks the 
Asiatic shores, as those of Marmora, in his beautiful 
yacht, and with a Manton or a first-rate Purdie he 
makes a good bag, for it is said his Highness is a 
capital shot. Moreover, he has taken to racing of 
late, and at his own expense has caused a very toler¬ 
able course to be made, on which a spring and autumn 
meeting are henceforth to be held. Having taken 
time by the forelock, I rose at break of day, and, ac¬ 
companied by a friend, rode some four or five miles 
one fair spring morning, practically to behold a spot 
that I had heard so much praised; and I must admit 
that nature has done everything to make this little 
resort of sporting pastime one of the most unique 
in the world; though much more has still to be done, 
and doubtless will be done, by the advice of a few 
English residents who are really sportsmen, to make it, 
what it is not at present,—a really good course, and 
the races equal to some of our small country meetings 
in Old England. 

I dwell on this subject inasmuch as a description of 


THE VALLEY OF SWEET WATERS. 


no 


this little course is not without interest. It is situated 
about four miles from the capital, in a pleasant valley, 
well known to all visitors of Constantinople as the 
Valley of Sweet Waters—so called, I fancy, solely 
because it is traversed by a small river, which flows 
towards the Golden Horn, the water of which then 
becomes saline;—a valley constantly spoken of and 
overrated as to its natural beauties by writers on the 
East; whose charms are really derived in a great 
measure from the fact that it is the locale of one of 
the Sultan’s innumerable summer kiosks ; a kiosk that 
he has lately added to without improving its beauties; 
and to which, at great outlay, he is endeavouring to 
add a park with small lakes, in imitation, as some 
say, of one of the most beautiful spots in Europe, the 
Bois de Boulogne. The kiosk, like the valley, is 
here and there sheltered by tolerable trees, and during 
the heats of summer the ladies of the harems and the 
lean moncle of the capital resort thither in crowds each 
Friday to enjoy all the shade they can obtain, and to 
look and be looked at. The picture is then one which 
the pencil of Preciosa, a talented Italian gentleman 
and a first-rate artist of Constantinople, can place on 
the canvas with charming effect; it is, indeed, a 
picture whose varied costumes and contrasts of cha¬ 
racter would scarcely be unworthy the pencil of a Frith. 
On the other hand, nature has done little, save by 

9 


130 THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 

affording a contrast to the bare and hideous, though 
undulating hill scenery by which the valley is sur¬ 
rounded. Onwards from this kiosk, the little river 
glides through what may be termed a rich though 
treeless valley, closed in by bare hills, which tower 
over and around it, so as totally to close in the race¬ 
course and river. On these hills, which form natural 
stands, on the race days, Turks and Armenians, 
Greeks and Jews, Franks and sportsmen of all nations, 
congregate in hundreds of thousands, while the Sul¬ 
tan, in the pride of place, sits in a charming little 
Swiss chalet, admirably designed by a Scotch gentle¬ 
man; and in a smaller, but equally tasteful one at 
hand, his ministers smoke their pipes in peace; 
whether they are lovers of sport or not, make bets 
on the running horses, or sip sherbet, I am not pre¬ 
pared to say, or whether his Highness stands iced 
champagne, ham sandwiches, or lobster salads, but if 
he do not, many there are who do. In fact, nothing 
can be more picturesque, recollecting that you are in 
Turkey, than the scene which here presents itself, 
generally under a clear blue sky and a brilliant 
Eastern sun, which I imagine must greatly aid the 
heavy weights in their preparation for the fray. 

Having said so much in favour of this spot, and 
the purposes for which it has been selected; that it is 
an admirable day of thorough amusement for the 


THE RACE COURSE. 


131 


Frank inhabitants of Constantinople, on the other 
hand, I cannot but think, that with very moderate 
outlay, that which at present is a short, ill-drained 
course, with turns so sharp as scarcely to admit of a 
lengthy horse getting into full stride, might be judi¬ 
ciously enlarged by a full half-mile, with a straight 
run in along the river—the kiosks being removed 
under the shade of a few trees on its banks ; from 
where the races might be seen throughout. 

There is another great defect; these races, for the 
time being, like everything else under a despotic go¬ 
vernment, are a monopoly ; I do not mean to infer that 
the prizes are a monopoly, but they are one and all given 
by the Sultan, and not by the public, or by subscrip¬ 
tion to the several stakes. Moreover, the course is 
the property of the Sultan, whose despotism might 
be far greater than that of our arch-tribunal the 
Jockey Club, as he can do what he likes with his 
own. Unfortunately,- however, these races can have 
no effect whatever as far as an improved breed of 
horses is concerned, simply because Turkey being 
roadless, were all the horses in England sent to Con¬ 
stantinople, they could only be used as Paclia^s hacks, 
the native style of horse being by far the best adapted 
for Turkish requirements. 

The period is not u lang syne” when for one of my 
sins—I know not which—I found myself landing 

9—2 


182 THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 

from a caique, in Venetian style, at the steps of Petula's, 
commonly called the Hotel d'Angleterre, at Therapia, 
on the European shores of the Bosphorus, which, 
without any great praise, may he justly considered 
the best hotel for man's rest and digestion in the 
Sultan's dominions,—be it only (do not smile, De¬ 
vonian readers) that you get fresh butter for breakfast, 
almost an unknown luxury in the East. Moreover, 
you may dive as a duck, matutinally,—being on the 
ground floor,—from the window of your room into the 
clear and deep water of the river—if river it can be 
called. 

After two days of violent and incessant rain, the 
weather cleared into one of those bright and elastic 
mornings of early autumn which seem to tell us how 
loth the summer is to part from these sunny climes, 
and although my bile had been considerably increased 
by the vile, I may say obnoxious cuisine I was 
compelled to endure on board, the French steamer 
Danube, from Marseilles, and my temper had been 
somewhat soured by the necessity of quitting England 
at a very brief notice, and at a time I had cause par¬ 
ticularly to wish otherwise, my good humour and 
good spirits soon returned, after a swim and a 
hearty welcome from the worthy landlord, who forth¬ 
with informed me that the quails' were in excellent 
season, that a couple, with some red mullet and fried 


TURKISH RACES. 


133 


potatoes, were preparing for my breakfast, and that I 
had arrived just in time for the autumn race meeting 
at the Sweet Waters. 

A brilliant morning, a half-starved appetite, quails 
preparing, of all kinds, save the double Russian 
snipe, the best for the breakfast, a race meeting in 
anticipation, a disgusting voyage over—ought human 
nature to require more ? However, as I discussed the 
succulent quails and determined to see the races, the 
light of other days came o’er me, and I recollected 
that having arrived one morning at ConstantinoDle, 
at the termination of the Crimean war, on entering 
my hotel I chanced to meet the celebrated Monsieur 
Soyer, when he accosted me in a similar manner to 
that of Petula, with—“ Diable ! Monsieur, &c., you 
have arrived just in time.” 

“Just in time,” said 1; “and, diable! Monsieur 
Soyer, what on earth causes you to linger here? You 
have no troops in the East who require soup meagre— 
no pic-nics on the heights of Balaklava?” 

“ Que voulez-vous, Monsieur; do you not know 
that this is the height of the quail season, the very 
period above all others when these succulent birds 
return from the vineyards of France and Italy satu¬ 
rated with the juice and aroma of grape-juice—fat and 
melting in your mouth ? Do me the honour to lunch 
with me, and you shall eat a quail such as you have 


134 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


never previously eaten, and wash it down with a 
glass of Burgundy fit for the table of the Prince of 
f Yales.'" 

I did him the honour, an honour I would gladly 
have repeated. Before or since I have never realized 
the true gusto of eating quails, though I do eat them 
whenever opportunity offers; and I strongly advise 
my readers to follow my example. 

Meanwhile, I earnestly and in perfect good faith 
suggest the advisability of never committing the 
good-natured error, under any circumstances, of send¬ 
ing them as a present to any male or female friend, 
whatever your obligations or reasons, save they be 
perfectly sensible of the value of the present in every 
sense of the word. I once committed that fatal error 
for the first and last time; and I never look on a 
quail without a cold shiver passing over my heart in 
memory of my weakness. 

My fault is thus explained. Chance having brought 
me in a very fast steamer from Messina to Marseilles, 
at the very period when these succulent little birds 
were in full season, fat and luscious, I purchased a 
few dozen alive for a very trifling outlay, and having 
given them into the safe keeping of the maitre 
d'hotel the morning of our arrival, they were put to 
death, and then into a tin box, in which they reached 
my home in England, safe and fresh. 


A QUAIL STORY. 


135 


Having a worthy old aunt, for whom I have a 
great affection, but from whom, of course, no expecta¬ 
tions, pecuniary or otherwise, I forthwith sent her a 
dozen, naturally conceiving that a quail to her wophj 
be as a quail to me, or any gastronome of taste and 
discretion; moreover, she had a good cook, and was 
accustomed to live in polite society, commonly called 
aristocratic. 

Will you believe it, gentlemen, sportsmen, and 
gastronomes in particular, on calling a few days sub¬ 
sequently, as was my duty, to announce my safe return 
from abroad, after embracing me, and congratulating 
me on my health and good looks, she added: “ My 
dear boy, I must not forget to thank you for the fine 
larks you were good enough to send to me; I never 
ate finer. It is a favourite bird of mine, and cook 
tells me they were the largest larks she ever cooked. 
But they were foreign larks; and I know that 
all birds on the continent are good in the grape 
season/ - ’ 

At first I nearly choked with rage, and was about 

to exclaim, “ D-your cook ! discharge the he or 

the her at once for an ignorant ass \” But on recon¬ 
sideration, I merely observed, with as much calmness 
as my anger permitted, “ Larks, my dear aunt! they 
were the finest quails I ever beheld. It was only this 
morning, when turning from Piccadilly into Jermyn- 



136 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


street, I passed Fisher's; he had some fine quails, and 
asked only five shillings a couple." Of course, she 
added a codicil to her will, or ought to have done it, 
and left me an additional thousand. 

But to return to the subject of the races at the 
Sweet Waters. I have already touched briefly on 
the course and its beauties. On the morning previous 
to the day fixed for their commencement, hints had 
been thrown out of their postponement on account of 
the weather—for recollect a Sultan can postpone a 
race, or select a pet wife from fifty, or do almost 
anything else which for the time being enters his 
illustrious noddle. But weather rarely stops a real 
sportsman, particularly if that sportsman be an 
Englishman; consequently, in company with an 
agreeable companion, I jogged over the hills on a 
smart little Arab, through pelting rain, determined to 
see what was or was not to occur. Arrived at the 
course, or rather what was or had been the course, 
a curious sight presented itself; in fact the basin 
between the surrounding hills was more or less a 
lake, on the side of which stood the Sultan's kiosk, 
which might be taken for a boat-house, and as my 
friend justly observed, a regatta should have been an¬ 
nounced to the public instead of races, for jockeys 
and horses would have inevitably been drowned had 
they attempted to start for the prizes; moreover, 


A DISAPPOINTMENT. 


137 



instead, as I had hoped and desired to behold, fifty 
thousand people of all nations, classes, and costumes, 
nothing was there hut mud and water, while three 
disconsolate, dripping crows stood drenched and 
croaking on a ruined windmill, which seemed to say, 
“ What asses you are to have ridden all the way from 
Therapia to Kiat-hane to behold a race-course con¬ 
verted into a swampy lake, with the sole consolation 
of abusing the weather and the want of drainage, 
with every facility of draining.” 

So we rode home again with damp, moist bodies, 
and tempers by no means favourable to the inhabitants 
of the East; not believing in their budget or reforms; 
not admiring their women or their races; thirsting 
for bitter beer ; and out of pure spite forcing our little 
Arab hacks over every obstacle to be met with, in 
the hope of breaking their necks or our own. 

On the following week the public were beginning 
to make up their minds that the autumn races would 
turn out a myth, when, after a season of unpre¬ 
cedented rain, which had sweft away gardens near 
the Bosphorus, and nearly ruined the cotton crop in 
the interior, fine, dry, bright weather broke over the 
land again, and once more the sporting world were 
on the qui vive. 

The day was again announced, and ere noon thou¬ 
sands and tens of thousands of the Polyglot popula- 


138 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


tion of the City of the Saltan, of all sexes and condi¬ 
tions, were wending their way on foot, or in vehicles 
of every description, over the steep Teriheni roads—ii 
roads they can he called; or in caiques up the Golden 
Horn, passing the Mosque of Eyrouts, where the 
banner of the Prophet Mahommed floats in the breeze, 
said to be made of his old silk trousers, thence merg¬ 
ing into the stream, mis-called a river, to the pictu¬ 
resque valley, embosomed in hills, which nestle near 
the source of the ancient Bashyris, where, made cheer¬ 
ful by the bright autumnal sun, stood the Sultan's 
pretty Swiss chalet, the diplomatic tribune, the grand 
stand, the judge's rostrum, and all the accessories, 
while the approaches to the course, but recently a 
swamp, were more dusty than muddy, so rapidly do 
roads dry up in this country. 

However, I must come to a conclusion as regards 
sporting matters, by again asserting that that which, 
with little labour or expense, might be made a good 
racecourse, at present is not so ; and that which might, 
both in spring and autumn, become a source of great 
interest and amusement, particularly to European 
sportsmen, for the time being far away from the joys 
of home sports, never can be so till the accursed des¬ 
potism of Eastern rule—that is, the will and pleasure 
of one man, by no means a very good-looking one— 
is banished from the land, as regards racing and all else. 


MY OPINION OP TURKISH RACING. 


loO 


Horses there were, and beautiful horses, fit to run 
for their lives, and jockeys from the land of our 
fathers, though by no means of very distinguished 
celebrity; but something—that is, a great deal—was 
wanting to convince a true sportsman that the right 
horse was in the right place. Meanwhile, who knows, 
as the wise men from the east, or in the west—it mat¬ 
ters little—assert that Turkey is going a-head, but 
that Fordham, or Jemmy Grimshaw, or Custance, or 
Challoner, may not ere long be telegraphed for to 
ride for the Sultan's Cup, or the Eastern Derby. 

However, the two days' racing terminated with the 
unwelcome sound of a howling wind creeping down 
the valley, and other indications foretelling a coming 
storm—the signal for the rapid departure of Turks, 
Jews, Pachas, Eunuchs, Europeans, and Christians, in 
all directions—much paint being washed off the 
ladies' faces ere they reached the imperial city, I fancy; 
for when the momentary twilight deepened, as it 
does with little warning, into night, a perfect tempest 
of wind and rain, like a deluge, burst over the un¬ 
lucky lingerers; and it was by no means the worst part 
of the day when I found myself discussing a wood¬ 
cock pie and a glass of well-iced champagne, at the 
hospitable table of one who combined the kindest 
and most generous hospitality with a perfect know¬ 
ledge and appreciation of the art of dining, abusing. 


140 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


as of course we did,, the whole management of the races 
under Turkish rule, in proportion as we eulogized the 
cook, the condiments (from England), and our host. 

At this moment there are three projected lines of 
railway before the public, the one from Varna to 
Rustruck, another from the capital to Adrianople, 
and a third, called the Euphrates Railway, from 
Seleucia to Yaber Castle. All I can say is, that should I 
live to see any one of them actually finished and ready 
for practical use, and despatches sent by the way of 
Rustruck to Varna, or through Italy to Brindisi, then 
unquestionably the shortest route to the capital, I 
shall then admit that something is being done for 
Turkey; though Turkey has only conceded to others 
the power of finding the money for these schemes, as 
well as the honour of carrying them out. 

Meanwhile, as regards the day in which we live, 
there are various routes by which Constantinople may 
be visited, both for him who merely journeys there as 
a matter of pleasure, and for those who may be called 
eastward on public or private duty or interests. As 
these routes become more and more easy of access, 
doubtless there will be thousands still anxious to 
judge for themselves as regards the beauties and posi¬ 
tion of the imperial cit}'. As for myself, could I 
look back to the period when I first beheld its mosques 
and minarets, and had my choice, I own I should 


DIFFERENT ROUTES TO CONSTANTINOPLE. 141 


select the overland route; starting from Belgrade 
over the Balkan range by the celebrated Trajan gate 
or Mountain gates, raised by the Romans as a defence 
against incursions‘of the barbarous tribes from Dacia. 
The mountains are singularly bold and striking, while 
the view from the summit of the pass over the fertile 
plains of Bulgaria offei^s a magic contrast to the 
desolate fields of Thrace. 

I do not say that I should travel with that zeal and 
haste which enabled a royal messenger to perform the 
journey more rapidly than it has ever been accom¬ 
plished. Others, however, have travelled by the same 
route with great rapidity. Colonel Dundas, of the 7th 
Hussars, crossed the country in six days, to the no small 
admiration of the Turks. The Tatars generally take 
seven days, and it is constantly done in twelve, in¬ 
cluding, however, two days 5 rest. For my part, I 
should prefer to select the month of May or early 
June for this excursion, ere the summer heats have 
become unbearable, and while all nature is fresh and 
green, not expecting much ease at mine inn by the 
wayside. In such case, better remain at home; but 
having a pleasant companion, health, and good spirits, 
the interior of the country may thus be seen, and the 
capital being entered and first noticed from the land 
side, the disagreeable recollections may in some mea¬ 
sure be afterwards effaced by a view from the sea- 


142 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


board, and more favourable impressions carried home¬ 
wards than otherwise would be entertained by him 
who looks on other lands through the medium of 
fact and truth, and who is not carried away by 
romance and imagination. 

To perform this journey six horses are generally 
required for each traveller, his luggage, and a Tatar or 
guide ; the horses being changed at every post station. 
The less baggage taken the better, and it should 
be conveyed in two small strong portmanteaus, so as to 
balance on each side of a horse's back. I would 
further suggest, if so be that you are married, and that 
your wife is in the habit of wearing the unmention¬ 
able garments which are typical of feminine power, 
that you request from her the loan of a thick pair of 
leather ones. Take with you also an English saddle, 
otherwise, not having hunted regularly throughout 
the previous season, you may perchance experience 
some corporeal inconvenience when you dismount in 
the City of the Sultan. A large pouch of good cigars, 
if you be a smoker, a flask of real old cognac, fine 
champagne brandy as it is termed, if you can get it, 
and a small revolver, will contribute to your comfort 
and secui'e your person from insult, though I question 
if throughout the route you meet with the slightest 
discourtesy or personal inconvenience, unless indeed 
you invite it by your own misconduct. 


AN INCIDENT OF TRAVEL. 


143 


Eor my own part, I have invariably found, when 
travelling, particularly on the Continent, that a few 
kind, mild, and courteous words, or some trifling 
assistance to any fellow-traveller requiring it, repays 
you tenfold; whereas a brusque demand, even for 
that you may he justified in asking, not unfrequently 
has an entirely different effect. Indeed, two of the 
best friends I ever had in life were made known to 
me under the most trivial circumstances,—trivial in¬ 
deed, yet affording convincing proofs that kindness 
begets kindness, even be it only the offer of an addi¬ 
tional covering to one who, unconscious of the neces¬ 
sities of travel, is shivering by your side in a railway 
carriage. 

On one occasion, if memory fail me not, when about 
to quit the railway train at St. Michelle in order to 
cross the Mount Cenis in a private carriage, while 
numerous other passengers were preparing to take 
their places in diligences and the mall-eposte—all more 
or less crammed—during allot spring day, I beheld an 
Englishman, evidently a gentleman, accompanied by 
two young ladies who were apparently in some diffi¬ 
culty. As I stood smoking my cigar, and watching 
the horses about to be attached to my carriage, the 
gentleman thus accosted me : “ Sir,” he said, raising 
his hat, “will you pardon my intrusion? I am but an 
indifferent linguist—I am here with my wife and her 


144 THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 

sister—we have secured three places in the coupe 
of one of these diligences, and I am at a loss to know 
which is the diligence and which is the coupe. You 
will do me a great kindness if you can put us right.” 

I speedily settled the question. Taking his ticket 
or claim for places, I. forth with seated the ladies in 
one of the carriages, and shutting the door, with a 
smile observed, “ They will be quite safe, and as you 
have the third place, no fear of intrusion. You must 
come with me,” I added, turning to the gentleman, 
“ in that light carriage, which you observe is ready to 
start.” He cordially accepted my offer, and being 
seated we started. I then remarked, a We shall not 
be much in advance of the malle-poste or diligence; we 
shall merely reach Suza, the southern base of the 
mountain, in time to provide some warm tea and 
a cold fowl for the ladies on their arrival, and cer¬ 
tain to catch the railway to Turin. Meanwhile I 
will gladly describe to you the locality en passant ” 
And thus we journeyed together, I feeling that I had 
secured a most agreeable companion, he evidently 
satisfied with his position. 

On our arrival at Turin we parted—my duties 
called for attention; but we met again on the crowded 
deck of a pleasant little steamer bound for Civita 
Vecchia, and thence we proceeded to our final destina¬ 
tion, Rome. Now it so occurred that it was precisely 


UNPLEASANT STEAMBOAT TRAVELLING. 145 


at that period of the year when all the world English 
do proceed to Rome; some to see the Vatican, some 
the Pope, some Cardinal Antonelli, and the Colosseum 
by moonlight, all, doubtless, to enjoy themselves ; and 
so our little vessel, which might, the weather being 
fine, have accommodated a hundred persons in com¬ 
fort, was totally unfit to carry one hundred and fifty 
with even the most common ease or convenience. 
Meanwhile, having some knowledge of these facts at 
such seasons, I had taken time by the forelock and tele¬ 
graphed for a cabin, not of course for the safety or 
repose of my own person, but for that of her Majesty’s 
despatches; no such precaution, however, had been 
judged necessary for those who, for the first time, 
were about to visit the Eternal City. The conse¬ 
quence was evident: their only alternative, at least 
that of the ladies, was to sleep on or under the saloon 
table, or pass the night on deck. In this their 
dilemma I took from my pocket the key of the cabin 
I had secured, and which I had kept safe till we were 
under weigh, and handing them into it bade them 
take care of my belongings, while we passed the bril¬ 
liant moonlight night wrapped in our cloaks on deck 
in pleasant converse, diversified by a pipe and a glass 
of good cognac and hot water, and an occasional doze, 
till the light of another day broke on the shores of the 
Pope’s dominions. 


10 


146 


THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 


Having come to an anchor in the harbour of Civita 
Vecchia, I suggested to my new-made friends the 
advisability of accompanying me on shore: delicacy, 
however, possibly induced them to decline giving me, 
as they observed, any further trouble. They had 
written a month previously for apartments at Rome; 
they had telegraphed to a banker for a “ lasciapassare 
—in fact, as they believed, they had taken every pre¬ 
caution to secure comfort. They were grateful for 
the little I had done for them, so I started for the 
shore alone. And having washed the effects of travel 
from my outward man, and refreshed the inward man 
with a good breakfast, I went on my way rejoicing to 
the railway station, glad to have escaped the discom¬ 
fort of an overloaded steamer: and having, through 
the courtesy of the superintendent, secured a carriage, 
awaited the arrival of my friends; but they came not. 

Having reached the Papal city about two p.m., I 
was informed by the civil landlord of the hotel at 
which I was accustomed to locate myself, that he had 
received letters a month since to retain apartments, 
not only for one English family, but for twenty; but 
his hotel had been, and still was, thronged,—indeed, 
he could only put me up, which he would do by giving 
me his own room. 

Dinner being over, as I stood at the entrance of 
the hotel enjoying my cigar in the soft night air of 


147 


A ROMAN HOTEL. 

a Roman climate, a carriage drove to the door, and I 
beheld those I had left at Civita Vecchia in the 
morning, followed by very many others, who had 
come in the same vessel. 

Jumping from the carriage, my late companion 
informed me they had been detained by every con¬ 
ceivable and inconceivable annoyance; that their “ las- 
cia passare” was a myth, but now they hoped for rest 
and comfort. 

I shall not readily forget the expression of his 
countenance when I assured him that his hope of 
rooms at the hotel was also entirely mythic,'—there 
was not a hole or corner to put a portmanteau in,— 
or its change, as I continued—“ But the landlord has 
•obtained some pleasant apartments at hand, where 
you will be more comfortable than in a crowded 
hotel. Go and look at them; meanwhile, I will take 
care of the ladies, and see that they have some 
creature comforts.'” 

Suffice it to state, during my stay in Rome we met 
almost daily, and enjoyed each other's society; and 
the mere common courtesy of handing two ladies into 
a coupe of a diligence, and the subsequent associations 
arising therefrom, gave me friends whose friendship 
to this hour I value. 

On another occasion, the mere jumping of a beau¬ 
tiful little dog, which I had brought from Syra, into 

10—2 


148 


THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 


a lady’s lap, who was a perfect stranger to me, at the 
hotel at Turin; my apologies arising therefrom; her 
kindness, together with some subsequent most trifling 
assistance to her and her husband, who were travelling 
for the first time on the Continent, secured to me the 
truest friend I ever had in my life. I mention these 
trifling facts, as mere practical proofs of how easily the 
wayside may he made pleasant; whereas thousands, 
from mere manner or unjustifiable arrogance, make it 
far otherwise. In justice, however, I must observe, 
such conduct generally proceeds from those who had 
far better remain at home, as it does vast injury to 
the English character, which a foreigner is always 
ready to respect. 

Having given some hints for the benefit of those 
who desire to cross the Balkan range, I may- name 
that the route has many very interesting features. 

At Adrianople, the first European capital of the 
Turkish empire, though at present having an appear¬ 
ance of desolation, both the Mosque of Silicia and 
Bazaar of Ali Pacha—the pride of the city—merit 
attention. The road from thence, coming from Con¬ 
stantinople, passes along the Maritza, and the views, 
as far as Hirmandi, are most picturesque and varied. 
Philippopoli, another town on the line, situated on a 
small island and formed by the Maritza, which here 
becomes navigable, though consisting, for the most 


ROUTE OVER THE BALKAN. 149 

part, like all other Turkish, towns, of half-dilapidated 
wooden houses, is not without interest. An old ruined 
church may be found, in which it is said St. Paul 
preached; also a picturesque mosque and bazaar. 

After crossing the Balkan towards Belgrade, Sophia 
is reached. It is situated in a large and beautiful 
plain on the river Sica, surrounded by distant moun¬ 
tains. The hot baths are famous for their medicinal 

qualities. The road then winds picturesquely along 

* 

the foot of Mount Teseritch, one of the many spurs 
of the great chain of the Balkan. On approaching 
Missa, the traveller is struck by beholding a tower 
composed of skulls, erected to commemorate the vic¬ 
tory over the Servians by the Turks under Coningi. 

Having passed the range, the Mahomedan popula¬ 
tion begin to disappear, being replaced by the Greek 
Christians. On leaving Alexinitza, the road crosses 
the river Momac, over the picturesque bridge of 
Banenez—the only bridge, with the exception of 
those at Adrianople, and Philippopoli, between Bel¬ 
grade and Stamboul: soon after which the road 

<D 

passes the most magnificent forest scenery, alternately 
presenting the dense masses of American woods, and 
the finest English park scenery. 

Of the once celebrated fortress of Belgrade I have 
little to say; it is in the present day more or less a 
picturesque ruin ; though the citadel, erected on a 


150 THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 

bold promontory between the Save and the Danube, 
is formidable in a military point of view, and if 
properly repaired, might, in conjunction with the 
fortifications on the low ground at the meeting of 
the rivers, defy a powerful enemy. Arrived at Bel¬ 
grade from the east, the Tatar, or guide, is discharged. 
Christian Europe is entered. 

I have thus briefly described one of the routes 
between the City of the Sultan and civilization. It 
is unquestionably one which will reward the traveller 
who ventures on this rather formidable journey, having 
time, means at command, and health—one, in fact, 
who seeks knowledge by the wayside of the country 
he is about to visit. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


EXPOSITION OF THE VARIOUS ROUTES THROUGH FRANCE AND 
ITALY TO TURKEY—THE MONT CENIS JOURNET vid TURIN, 
MILAN, AND TRIESTE—THE MARSEILLES ROUTE VUt LEGHORN, 
GENOA, AND MESSINA — STEAMBOAT TREATMENT ON THE 
MEDITERRANEAN—REFLECTIONS. 

There are several other routes, more or less rapid and 
interesting, by which the traveller from Europe may 
approach the Bosphorus; perhaps that which is at 
present most used during six months of the year, 
starting from Paris—and I need scarcely tell the 
world how to get there from England,—is from thence 
to Vienna, by Strasburg and Munich, and from Vienna 
by railway, to Pesth and Bayiash; thence by steam¬ 
boat on the Danube you reach Tchernavoda; taking 
railway again to Kustendjie, whence in eighteen hours 
—the Black Sea being courteous—you enter the 
Bosphorus, and cast anchor in front of St. Sophia. 

I would observe, however, that, although this is no 
doubt at the present moment probably the most rapid 
mode of travelling from the Imperial City to that of 
the Sultan, there are periods of the year when it is 


152 THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 

impracticable: in the one case, when the heats of 
summer have dried up the waters of the Danube; 
and in the other, when the frosts of winter cause 
that river to be icebound. 

Meanwhile there are other routes, which, for my 
own part, I always hold to be far more agreeable, and 
certainly more interesting to those who travel for 
mere pleasure,—that is, with a full sense of enjoy¬ 
ment of the charming and varied scenes of foreign 
climes. Starting from Paris, proceed by railway to 
Dijon and Macon, thence to St. Michelle—heretofore 
in Savoy, now in the territory of La Belle France. 
Arrived here, you select your mode of crossing the 
Mont Cenis,—grand, if somewhat perilous, in mid¬ 
winter time; charming—1 may say a glorious scene 
of nature, when the bright green of early summer or 
the golden tints of autumn clothe the picture,—in 
fact, when all nature around and about you offers 
varied beauties which charm the eye and enthral the 
mind of him who looks on and loves God’s works. 

On leaving St. Michelle the road crosses the river 
Argau, while a second bridge spans the Aar, facing 
which there is a rivulet, said to have wonderful powers 
of petrifaction. At Modane you approach a vast 
fortification, which commands the Mont Cenis road, 
•—a passage over the Alps, supposed first to have been 
attempted by Pompey, whereas the present admirably 


THE MOUNT CENTS PASS. 


153 


constructed highway was made by order of Napoleon I. 
in 1810—a gigantic task contrived by an Italian 
engineer of great repute, named Eabione. Three 
thousand men were constantly employed on this work 
for many years, at the vast cost of J?810,000. How¬ 
ever, when it is recollected that nearly a similar sum 
has been wasted by the Sultan in the purchase of 
pleasure yachts and palaces in a country where scarcely 
a road exists, and considering* its great importance, 
the outlav is a mere bagatelle. 

This road at its extreme height is about 5898 feet 
above the level of the sea, and at its highest point of 
elevation there is a lake, at the extremity of which, 
on the Italian side, stands the hospice founded by 
Charlemagne and restored by Napoleon. To the pre¬ 
sent day the room is shown where Napoleon and 
Josephine slept. 

At different parts of the road there are established 
twenty-three houses of refuge, all established by 
Napoleon; these are occupied by fifty cantineers, 
forming two companies, twenty-five, being on each 
side of the mountain. 

If you are physically prepared for such an arduous 
though pleasant undertaking, make the ascent, but 
remember it is no child's work. Walk over the 
mountain, halt near its summit, look at the placid 
lake which God, not man, has placed so high above 


154 


THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 


the great ocean in this mountain pass; dwell for the 
moment in recollection of the master-mind which 
planned and created this noble route, by which he 
marched his conquering legions into Italy. And if 
you are a gastronome, or simply hungry traveller, you 
will thank me that I suggest a repast from the fresh 
rosy trout which abound in the lake, and which as 
trout have no rivals from pot or pan. 

Having refreshed yourself, possibly passed the 
night, at the indifferent hostelry which crowns the 
mountain road and looks on the lake, handle your 
walking-stick, buckle on your knapsack, and descend 
gradually to the sunny vales of Italy at Susa, the 
ancient and once celebrated city of Sigusiutn or 
Suesia of the Romans. In addition to the agreeable 
companions whom you have doubtless selected to 
accompany you in this pleasant trip—remember it is 
summer-time—you will be also accompanied by the 
Dora Susina, which rushes, broken by rocks and shelves, 
from the impending mountains, which have there that 
blended character of amenity and majesty which 
peculiarly belongs to the landscape of the southern 
side of the Alpine range. There is also a far shorter 
and more agreeable route to the pedestrian, starting 
from Modane by the Col de Frejus, and descending 
to Exilles. This, by a good walker, may be accom¬ 
plished in seven hours, through some of the finest 


SUSA. 


155 


mountain scenery in Europe; fine weatlier must, 
however, he selected, and a sight of the lake and 
hospice are of course lost, though the landscape is 
unquestionably grander. 

If neither time nor circumstances permit of these 
pleasant modes of crossing the mountain, you have 
your choice of malle-poste, or diligence, or private 
carriage, awaiting the tunnel now in progress, and 
which may probably be terminated a dozen years hence. 

4 * 

Susa is entered by an arch or city gate, erected it 
is said, by Julius Cottius, the son of King Domus. I 
had not the honour of his acquaintance, and only men¬ 
tion the fact for the benefit of the curious. Neverthe¬ 
less, it is the most interesting feature of the place, 
yet rarely, perhaps, looked on in these “ civilized” 
days, when the traveller who crosses the mountain at 
night is only too glad to get a short rest and badly- 
served supper, the first having been accomplished at 
Lauselburg, the northern foot of the mountain. 
Travellers, like Doctors, differ as regards gastronomic 
indulgence cn route j I hold to the system of eating, 
ay, and of drinking, when travelling, in moderation, 
whenever time permits the pleasure, without hurry or 
injury to digestion, and the eatables and drinkables 
are good : nature requires sustenance, and physical 
powers are called on more than people imagine, even 
in railway travelling. 


156 


THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 


The gate to which I have alluded is situate just 
without the Prefect’s garden. If viewed from the 
bridge crossing the road at the end of that garden, 
the structure is seen with a vast mountain rising 
behind it; if from the other side, the arch becomes 
the frame of a picture of beautiful mountain scenery. 
A most absurd proposition was, I believe, made to 
remove this arch to Turin; whereas the value of the 
relic depends entirely on its historical associations and 
the charming scenery by which it is surrounded. 
Prom Susa an hour and a half of railway brings you 
to Turin, but yesterday the capital—now removed to 
Florence, to await the Pope’s departure in peace from 
Pome—of Victor Emanuel, King of Italy. 

“ There is no inland capital in Europe,” says an 
author to whom the travelling world owe no small 
debt of gratitude, “ so grandly situated as Turin— 
none in which you have so much country, so much of 
the majesty of nature constantly before you. Through 
the perspective of the streets, the hills, mountains, 
Alps, which surround the city, are continually in sight. 
As you look along the Contrada di Dora, it seems as if 
the Mont Cenis were falling upon you, its snowy, silent 
summit contrasting most forcibly with the busy scene 
around. Turin is placed in the most beautiful conjoint 
valleys of the Dora Susina and the Po, just after their 
confluence. The first is a fine mountain torrent, whose 


f 


TURIN. 


157 


banks afford a continued succession of the most lovely 
scenery; the last is a deep and rapid river. The 
moment you see the rushing waters of the Po all the 
glories of Italy rush upon the mind. 

“ Every beauty which can be afforded by wood and 
water beneath the brightest and bluest sky is found in 
the neighbourhood of Turin.” This may be so, but I 
do not endorse the opinion. 

There was a time at Turin, and elsewhere beyond 
. the snow-clad Alps, when the hotels, if never precisely 
first-rate, were comfortable, with moderate charges. 
Those good old times have passed away, and at the 
hour my pen glides over these pages the only tolerable 
hotels in Turin are the Hotel de l'Europe, commonly 
known as “ Trompetta^s/’ and Feder’s. At the former 
you dine very indifferently in a gilded apartment, 
envious of the little fat painted Cupids, that float, as 
it where, about the ceilings, and over the great side¬ 
boards and mirrors, and sleep, possibly soundly, after 
crossing the Mont Cenis, particularly if you have 
walked, in a very indifferent room between the sky and 
the street, the windows of which look into a dirty 
courtyard, from which ascend the fumes of boiled 
cabbage and garlic—without you have such a balance 
at your banker's as to admit of your reposing on the 
first floor, at a rate per night that would hire a house 
in Belgravia. Turin, in fact, is no longer the capital 


158 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


of Piedmont. There is more life, a vast population, 
more activity, better shops, and greater facilities than 
in years bygone; but, while the dulness of life still 
exists for the stranger resident, the means of living are 
doubled, nay, trebled, in expense, and bad. 

I have heard the Lombard oxen described as having 
the same relation to the Leicestershire animals as the 
Apollo Belvedere has to a London drayman. The 
forms are doubtless fine, and their colours, which vary 
from a creamy tint to the richest auburn, certainly 
constitute pleasing objects in the foreground of a 
beautiful landscape, which they help to decorate. But 
halt at any small hostelry in sporting Leicestershire, 
and I doubt if you are not made comfortable with a 
beefsteak, a rib, or a sirloin, such as the Lombardian 
vales cannot produce, and which I certainly never had 
the good fortune to taste at Trompetta’s, or in any 
town or city in Italy,—where the beef may be very 
pretty to look at while pasturing, but is anything but 
a gastronomic indulgence on the table. I really do 
not ever recollect having seen a calf in Italy, or eaten 
a veal cutlet. I think I have tasted some young cow, 
or heifer, or whatever they are called, and at the same 
table been offered some brandy cherries, which were 
in reality cherries preserved in spirits of wine, and 
which, had I applied a match to them, would have set 
my throat on fire. To say the least of it, the hotels 
of Turin are bad and enormously expensive. 


LOMBARDY AND MILAN. 


159 


Let us now leave Turin for Milan, thence by the 
Quadrilateral—at least, the fortified towns so called, 
the most interesting feature of the route—to Venice, 
and thence to Trieste, or to Trieste direct from Milan, 
precisely as time or inclination may direct. At Trieste 
you find the Austrian Lloyd's steamers, which for the 
most part are good boats, in which you may proceed 
by the Adriatic, touching at the beautiful island of 
Corfu and the hideous island of Syra, onwards to the 
capital of Turkey. Should you prefer a shorter land 
route and less of the briny ocean, go by railway to 
Ancona.* The land journey is perhaps less interesting 
than that by Trieste to those who are desirous of 
visiting Milan, Brescia, and Verona; with a sight, 
en jiassant, of the lovely lake Guardia and Venice, to 
say nothing of Trieste. Still you have Bologna, 
Modena, and Parma by the wayside. Prom Ancona 
steam will take you to Corfu or the Piraeus, so that 
you may visit Athens, and at all events go to Syra, 
from whence there is constant communication with the 
capital of Greece; or, crossing from Corfu, proceed up 
the Gulf of Lepanto to Lututia, crossing the isthmus 
to Calamaka and Athens, and thus save the whole sea 
voyage round Cape Matapan, at times a most un¬ 
pleasant sea route to the Piraeus, and considerably 
shortening the distance : such deviations, are, however, 
only for those who are journeying for mere pleasure. 

* This line is now open to Brindisi. 


160 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


The expense of all these routes, in absolute pay¬ 
ment for railways and steamboat, is not materially 
different. Wishing, however, to lose no time en 
route , it is of course necessary to make yourself per¬ 
fectly acquainted with the days and hours that the 
steamers start for the places I have named. 

Let me now mention the route—that is, the sea 
route—practicable at all seasons of the year, and for 
which the public are indebted to the French Mes- 
sagerie Xmperiale Company, who possess the largest, 
finest, and fastest steamers on the Mediterranean—a 
monopoly, in fact, as far as Constantinople and the 
East are concerned. 

Should you not suffer from sea-sickness, proceed 
from Paris to Marseilles, in sixteen hours, by one of 
the best ordered and most agreeable railway lines in 
Europe, through the pleasant, rich vales of France, 
passing the noble commercial city of Lyons and 
various other interesting towns en route. 

You reach Marseilles in time to take a cursory view 
of a city which is day by day becoming more worthy of 
notice. The hotels, of which there are several for 
selection, are good; but, like every where else in these 
days on the Continent, most expensive—in fact, 
treble the expense of what they were a few years 
since. 

From Marseilles steamers start every Saturday at 


MARSEILLES TO CONSTANTINOPLE. 


161 


four p.m. for Constantinople, passing through the 
Straits of Bonifacio, thus offering a close view of 
Sardinia and Corsica and the rocky island of Caprera, 
which in future years will be historical as the resi¬ 
dence of Garibaldi. Thence, in thirty hours, you 
gain a sight of the ofttimes burning Stromboli and 
the adjacent isles of Lipari, and subsequently enter 
the beautiful Straits of Messina, by Scylla and 
Charybdis, and cast anchor for a time in the deep but 
land-locked and pleasant harbour of Messina. 

The steamer remains for several hours at Messina— 
time sufficient to see all worthy of being seen in the 
city—the peculiar beauty of the Straits and the 
mountain scenery, and not the city, being the great 
attraction. However, an hour’s ramble on shore is 
not ill-spent; and there is a convent within a quarter 
of an hour’s walk from the landing, from the terrace 
of which there is a commanding view ; and the chapel 
can boast of some fine mosaics, together with a singu¬ 
lar picture, representing a nun of noble birth, who— 
possibly still yearning for the busy world without— 
stretched too far from her lattice window, and fell on 
a neighbouring housetop. 

Sicilian medicos in those days, as now I fear, would 
scarcely have passed the College of Surgeons, and 
notwithstanding the treasures offered on the shrine of 
the Holy Virgin for recovery, the fair young nun 

11 


162 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


lingered on a bed of sickness, with hands lacerated 
and bruised limbs, till at length a heretic was called 
on for succour—an honest surgeon of one of the Eng¬ 
lish regiments then quartered at Messina,—who with 
simple salves and care brought back the suffering 
patient to life and health. What fee he received I 
know not, but a picture of this man of science in a 
cocked hat and a swallow-tailed red coat adorns the 
walls of the chapel, side by side with the nun, who is 
descending head foremost with out-stretched hands 
on the neighbouring tiles, while a wax-model of her 
lacerated hands is suspended over a table on which 
appear the salves and plasters of the worthy doctor. 
This is pointed out to English visitors as a precious 
relic of the past, by which the sacristan gains a re¬ 
markable number of francs. I was mean enough to 
give him only fifty centimes—which I judged suffi¬ 
cient for the gratification—for which I received no 
thanks. 

There is also a fountain in the Place de Cathedrale, 
worthy of all notice, an exquisite work of art, greatly 
injured by modern restorations and hideous gas lamps. 

With tolerably fair weather and a decent steamer 
forty-eight hours brings you safely to the port of the 
Pirseus, and in six-and-thirty more you have passed 
the Dardanelles and the Sea of Marmora, and anchored 
in the Golden Horn. By the same company quitting 


MESSAGERIE COMPANY STEAMERS. 


163 


Marseilles, and having leisure, you may enjoy the 
coast of Italy, touching at the several ports of Genoa, 
Leghorn, Civita Vecchia, to Naples, and hence joining 
the more direct line of steam communication at Mes¬ 
sina for Constantinople. 

Most of the boats I have already named are, I be¬ 
lieve, powerful, clean, commodious, and generally well 
commanded by lieutenants of the Imperial navy. 
But the gastronomy to which you are daily sub¬ 
jected is, I am compelled in all truth to assert, of a 
very indifferent character, as far as English stomachs 
and digestions are concerned. The breakfasts and- 
dinners—the former served at 9*30, the latter at five 
—are not greatly dissimilar, whether as regards the 
dishes served or the variety of meats from day to day, 
—bonbons, pickles, and fruits being the principal 
eatables which meet the eye. I am prepared to excuse 
the purveyor, in so far that good meat or poultry is 
unattainable after leaving Marseilles; still, a good 
Yorkshire ham or a salt round of beef would well suit 
an Englishman’s taste,—and two-thirds of the first- 
class passengers are generally English. The tea and 
coffee are execrable; and it is certainly not agreeable 
to those who possibly make their matutinal meal in 
the simple form of tea, toast, and eggs, with an occa¬ 
sional cutlet, to sit for an hour at table, while Southern 
France, Greece, and Turkey consume raw artichokes 

11—2 


164 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


steeped in bad oil, or swallow raw beans by the score 
swimming in oil and vinegar — both, during the 
spring and summer months, being constantly served 
at breakfast; whereas the dinner is only diversified by 
greasy soup and stringy beef, called boznf au naturel, 

■—most unnatural beef, considering that the sum 
charged for a first-class passage to Constantinople 
from Marseilles in proportion is far more expensive 
than that from Liverpool to New York by Cunard’s 
line, on board whose ships you are feasted to repletion 
with the best of food. I think it well the Messasrerie 
directors should be informed that their gastronomical 
system is universally condemned by the public. And 
it would not be amiss that one of the directors should 
from time to time take a months trip on the Medi¬ 
terranean as a punishment, whereby he would soon be 
convinced of the truth of that which I have stated. 
I have touched somewhat severely it may be said on 
these boats; I feel, however, bound to tell the truth. 
Therefore, while I assert that the Messagerie Imperiale 
has its great advantages, yet it has also its intolerable 
delects from the fact of its monopoly, inasmuch as 
the public are never considered where the interest of 
the company is at stake. Third-class passengers are 
allowed to go in any part of the ships, and second- 
class passengers, there being no room elsewhere, may 
use the advantages of those who pay for first-class 


STEAMBOAT ACCOMMODATION. 


165 


accommodation; and if so be that the gastronomy on 
board is suitable to the general run of foreigners. As 
to the staff employed, who, poor men, are so ill paid 
that they doubtless fare more meagrely on shore, the 
comfort of the general public ought not to be lost 
sight of, or the company so unworthily supplied. 

However, the commercial and speculative world are 
not asleep, and Messieurs the Directors of the Mes- 
sageries Imperiales, or I am greatly in error, will 
soon have to satisfy themselves with a smaller divi¬ 
dend than they now receive. The railway is now 
open to Brindisi, and steamers, I am told, will meet 
it to and from Alexandria, Corfu, Constantinople, and 
the Piraeus, which will thus become the surest and 
quickest route from England. Few, therefore, I 
imagine will trust themselves to a long sea voyage 
of discomfort when they can reach Constantinople 
two days sooner with little inconvenience by the 
new route; for the world are already beginning 
to learn that the soft, silken swell of the Mediter¬ 
ranean Sea is a humbug, and a sight of modern 
Athens only brings back the memory of the past in 
painful contrast with the disgust of your feelings at 
the present. 


CHAPTER IX. 


EN ROUTE FOR THE CRIMEA — A JOURNEY THROUGH THE 
WATERS—REACH MARSEILLES AN1) EMBARK ON A BRITISH 
WAR STEAMER FOR MALTA—CHANGE TO A FRENCH CORVETTE 
AND AT LAST REACH CONSTANTINOPLE. 

I left Paris in the spring of L 1S56 for Marseilles, as 
the bearer of some important despatches for Constan¬ 
tinople, as also for the commander-in-chief of the army 
then before Sebastopol. A few days only subsequent 
to my departure a succession of very heavy rains and 
storms had occurred—so heavy and so incessant that 
the Rhone and the Saone had overflowed their banks, 
and the luxuriant plains of France were inundated for 
leagues in extent. At the very moment when the 
flood was at its worst I reached Lyons, and you may 
conceive my astonishment when, on driving from the 
railway-station to my hotel, I found even in the 
public square of the city that the wheels of my con¬ 
veyance were up to their axles in water, which, ere I 
arrived at my destination, all but entered the vehicle. 

Every possible argument was used by the landlord 


EN ROUTE FOR THE CRIMEA. 107 

of the hotel to convince me that any attempt on my 
part to proceed by railway would be in vain. There 
I was, and there I must remain till the water sub¬ 
sided. The railway was stopped, the trains were at a 
dead fix; so forward I could not go unless I was pre¬ 
pared to become a kind of official Leander, and swim 
all the way to Tarascon. 

In this dilemma, without losing heart, I retired to 
bed for a few hours* repose, after endeavouring to ap¬ 
pease my appetite on the toughest fowl that ever was 
hatched. But before retiring I ordered the servants 
to call me at daybreak, and to secure for me a 
carriage at the door, for which I was prepared to pay 
liberally. 

Fortunately, my orders were promptly obeyed, and 
being up and dressed with the rising of the sun, I 
struggled, by dint of bribes and persuasions, through 
mud and water, to the railway-station, and whom 
should I find on the platform but the Pope’s Nuncio, 
the Pope’s Nuncio*s secretary, and the Pope’s Nuncio’s 
secretary’s secretary, all as eager as myself to get for¬ 
ward. They were proceeding southwards to meet an 
illustrious cardinal, who was expected to arrive at 
Marseilles, on his way from Rome to Paris, where he 
was to act as proxy for the Pope at the baptism of 
the young Prince Napoleon. No doubt the presence 
-of such important personages had great weight with 


168 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 

the railway authorities, for, after waiting a consider¬ 
able time, the clay being fine and hot, an engine was 
prepared, and we started on our dangerous but hope¬ 
ful journey. 

The scene was most painful—nay, melancholy in 
the extreme, as we glided along the top of an embank¬ 
ment of earth, on each side of which, instead of fertile 
corn-fields and spring-bedecked^ valleys, we beheld 
nothing but rushing and angry waters stretching far 
in the distance, with here and there tree-tops and the 
chimney tops of farmhouses appearing above the flood. 
Sad as were the feelings of my heart while gazing at 
such a scene of desolation, I own that I could not 
help wondering if my companion, his Excellency, or 
Eminence, could swim; as, had the embankment— 
which had no doubt been weakened by the pressure of 
the waters—happened to give way, there was no al¬ 
ternative for us except that of a ducking, or more 
likely a drowning. 

Thanks be to Providence, however, we arrived safely 
at Valence, and the line being there reported prac¬ 
ticable as far as Avignon, onwards was the word,— 
still through a foaming sea of angry waters. At 
Avignon, however, we came to a dead stop. Some 
four leagues beyond, the railway embankment had 
been cut to save the town of Terascon, and his Ex¬ 
cellency, his Excellency’s secretary, and the secretary’s 


\ 


AN AQUEOUS DIFFICULTY. 169 

secretary and their suite, with a very small display of 

i 

pluck or reluctance, abandoned the struggle, and re¬ 
turned forthwith to Paris or Lyons, as might be. In 
the meantime I had formed very different ideas on the 
subject, and at once declined their courteous offers that 
I should accompany them. 

As I stood alone by the side of my belongings, and 
beheld the train glide away on its return, leaving me 
to my fate, I own to have felt that my position was 
by no means a desirable one. There I was upon 
some yards of dry land between two seas, with miles 
and miles of embankment winding through the flood, a 
solitary Englishman in a foreign land, and, for all that 
I knew to the contrary, the fate of Turkey or Europe 
in my carpet-bag 1 I looked for a moment on the 
lofty castle of Avignon—an ancient papal palace,—• 
which alone appeared to me to be high and dry in the 
landscape, then at the vast ocean of waters spreading 
around me, and my heart swelled with uncontrolled 
emotion; when, happily, aid came to me in the shape 
of a rude, leaky punt, which seemed only a few 
planks hastily nailed together, scarcely watertight. 
But to me the fragile bark was worth its weight in 
silver. No distant sail in sight descried by the 
wrecked mariner on a raft was more welcome—no 
prisoner released from bondage ever surely felt more 
grateful than I did at that moment. In that frail 

O 


170 THE queen’s messenger. 

boat I forthwith embarked with my precious charge, 
and was punted along the main streets of the town 
through which I had so often walked. The scene 
was one that I shall never forget. Here we met a 
man floating in a hip-bath, handing up loaves of 
bread fixed to the end of a pole to the upper win¬ 
dows of the half-starved citizens,—for the water had 
risen far above the lower stories, and all chance of 
escape was cut off; there a man in a large tub carry¬ 
ing messages from house to house; then a floating 
human body; then the carcase of a sheep or cow; 
while numerous faces were gazing from the windows 
in despair. Through such a scene as this I was 
punted onwards to the Prefecture near the ancient 
palace I have named,—sitting, certainly not in the 
pride of place, but on my portmanteau, prepared, in 
case of accident, for a ducking or a swim. 

Well might the Nuncio have decided on return¬ 
ing. Gladly would I have done so likewise, had I 
not felt that my duty called me onwards; and I 
experienced some pride of heart in the endeavour to 
vanquish all difficulties. At length I reached dry 
land, that is to say, a flight of stone steps, and 
having placed my effects under the safe charge of a 
sentry, I made my way to the Prefect. Here again 
I encountered a scene most painful to behold, and 
never to be forgotten. I beheld women and children 


A FLOODED CITY. 


171 


crying aloud for succour and for bread; dead bodies 
brought in from time to time, drowned by the flood, 
and ranged along tlie wall of the corridor for recog¬ 
nition. In the midst of this unhappy scene I found 
the Prefect doing his best, and doing far more than 
most men would or could have done to calm the 
public mind, now raging with hunger and terror. 
Having introduced myself and produced my creden¬ 
tials, he forthwith begged me with much kindness 
to wait awhile in his private apartment till he could 
grant me ten minutes’ attention to listen to my 
wants; and, to do him only justice, I have rarely 
met with any one who appeared more calm, and 
firm, and practical in the midst of turbulence and 
dismay. 

At length he entered, and taking me kindly by 
the hand, with eyes half-filled with tears, briefly 
remarked that the present state of things was most 
dreadful, “ But by God’s will it will soon pass away,” 
he added; “ the weather is improving—the waters 
are already diminishing.” Then after listening pa¬ 
tiently to all I had to tell, he said, “ You wish to 
get on as soon as possible. Well, there is but one 
chance, and that is hazardous—uay, full of danger. 
If you can gain the bridge—which is, as you know, 
cut off from the town by the flood, you will find the 
land on the other side of the river high and dry. 


17 2 THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 

You may pass the mountains to Nismes, and from 
thence return again to the Marseilles .Railway at 
Tarascon. I will give you a boat with four active 
and stout rowers, and two soldiers to carry your 
effects. If you can reach one of the arches of the 
bridge by rowing against the stream, which is now 
running like a torrent, you will find a succession of 
hooks or iron steps, which reach to the parapet. 
Once on that bridge you are safe; but if you miss 
the hooks your boat is at the mercy of the flood. 
Will you try it ?" 

“ I will," I replied. 

“ Be it so," said the courteous Prefect; “ then here 
is an order to press horses on the other side. May 
God be with you and protect you," he added. 

Half an hour afterwards, I found myself in a large 
strong boat, with four powerful rowers and two 
soldiers by my side, and we started on the angry 
waters. At first we passed through two or three 
narrow streets or canals, closed in by the houses, and 
then emerged, as it were, into what, but a few days 
previously, doubtless had been beautiful flower-be¬ 
decked gardens, and thence eventually into the main 
river. Not a word was uttered, save by the “bow 
oar," who bid us sit steady, be silent, and leave the 
result to him. 

At this moment the men were pulling for their 


SAFE THROUGH THE WATERS. 


173 


lives against a stream which, rushed with a noise and 
rapidity which my pen can scarcely describe. Hard 
as they pulled against it, however, we were fast 
approaching one of the arches of the bridge, when 
the speaker carefully and quietly placed his oar in the 
boat, rose on his knees, took a strong looped cord in 
his hand, and with great dexterity cast one of the 
loops on an iron hook, as we were rushing through 
the arch ! It held us fast—we were so far safe ! 
“ Thank God!^ I exclaimed in my inmost .heart. 
Had we missed it. Heaven alone knows what would 
have been our fate. One of the boatmen imme¬ 
diately clambered up on the bridge—no great feat of 
difficulty — and bade me follow; this I declined, 
begging that my despatches might take the pre¬ 
cedence. Our worthy allies, the Frenchmen, were 
evidently astonished at my refusal, but I was firm 
on this point—-despatches first, self afterwards. Had 
my body floated to the Mediterranean, I should have 
made a vacancy for some happy applicant; whereas, 
had the despatches in my charge gone down in the 
dark rushing waters of the lihone, I had no alterna¬ 
tive but to follow them. Light was my heart, then, 
when I beheld my belongings hoisted over the 
parapet of the bridge of Avignon—about which 
bridge, by-the-bye, there is a well-known French 
song that I have never been able to obtain,—and 


J 74 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


lighter still were my footsteps as I followed my 
bag and baggage up the fragile iron steps. Once on 
the bridge, however, I lost no time in reaching the 
opposite shore, and presenting my order for horses 
at a small inn which overlooks the river. But the 
long spring day had passed, and the bright moon 
looked calmly from a cloudless sky upon the troubled 
waters, when in a sort of “ chaise de poste," to 
which were harnessed a horse and a mule, I rattled 
off on my way to Nismes, which place I reached as 
the sun once more shone over the beautiful landscape. 

Having despatched a telegram to Marseilles, en¬ 
treating the authorities to delay for a few hours the 
Messagerie steamer, bound on that day for Constanti¬ 
nople, pending my arrival, and having received a 
replj T in the affirmative, I was able to sit down, with 
a heart full of gratitude and cheerfulness, to a refresh¬ 
ing cup of cafe au lait,” after which I did what 
most Englishmen would have done under similar 
circumstances,—indulged in a good wash, and then 
started by the first train for Tarascon, and so on 
without further interruption to Marseilles. 

My misfortunes, however, or rather difficulties, were 
by no means over, even on reaching that commercial 
city. Conceive my disgust as the train glided along 
through rocks and olive trees, when, approaching the 
coast, I beheld the boat in which I had hoped to take 


VOYAGE TO MALTA. 


175 


passage, steaming rapidly away past the Chateau d’lf. 
I had either been purposely deceived, or was behind 
my time. Here was a dilemma; I scarcely knew 
how to act. I felt that I had struggled thus far to 
be beaten at last. Happily, most happily, I found in 
the harbour a small British man-of-war steamer, com¬ 
manded by a gallant and high-bred English naval 
officer; this was good fortune indeed ! After a brief 
consultation, he decided on taking me to Malta; and 
a most delightful passage we had; for if there be 
aught to my mind that can make steaming on the 
rude ocean endurable, with fair weather or foul, it is 
to know one^s self on board a British man-of-war, 
whose commander is a high-bred English sailor. 

Suffice it to say that on my arrival I was trans¬ 
ferred, by the courtesy of the French admiral, on 
board a steam corvette belonging to that nation, then 
about to start for Constantinople, there being no 
English craft at disposal in harbour. I scarcely recol¬ 
lect which was the slowest, the vessel or her captain: 
a more eccentric or taciturn native of la belle France 
I have rarely met. He was evidently labouring under 
some affliction, or was overwhelmed with disgust at 
the service, which he subsequently informed me he 
was about to quit, his period of active duty being 
nearly over. “The sooner the better,” I thought. 
Nevertheless, I had little cause on the whole to be 


176 


THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 


dissatisfied with my position, still less to complain of 
any discourtesy or want of attention on his part, 
though he was nearly the cause of my death ere we 
parted. His little French dinners were good, and 
well served; the quality of his claret was first-rate, 
though we had scarcely enough of it; the after-dinner 
coffee and chasse always forthcoming and excellent; 
hut conversation I found impossible, and so we ate 
and drank almost in silence. I touched on every 
topic save that of Waterloo, but from that hour to 
this I never discovered whether he cared for the Em- 
pereur whom he served, or for any one or anything 
upon this earth, or had one single opinion upon any 
question—political, artistical, literary, commercial, or 
social. So after a few vain attempts to make myself 
agreeable—as it was my duty to do—I retired into 
myself, and left my companion to his own medita¬ 
tions. I must do him the justice to say, that ere he 
retired to rest—which he did about nine each niodit— 
he desired his steward to attend to my comforts, 
which the good man always did by suggesting a glass 
of grog. As, however, he imagined grog to mean a 
teaspoonful of brandy, four knobs of sugar, and half a 
pint of water, I felt it my duty during the passage to 
initiate him into the art of brewing it, as also the 
lieutenant, for which they were grateful. 

At length—oh, happy sight!—we beheld the Isle 


AT CONSTANTINOPLE. 


177 


of Marmora, then the Prince's Islands, then the 
gilded dome of St. Sophia, and found ourselves before 
that incomprehensible city, so beautiful to behold from 
the blue waters of the Bosphorus, so dismal to con¬ 
template in its dirty and miserable reality. My 
spirits rose, for I felt that I had accomplished my 
task. I had performed my duty in spite of all diffi¬ 
culties in mv wav, and my mission so far was all but 
ended. I was about to bid adieu, as I hoped for ever, 
to the lumbering corvette and her silent commander, 
his coffee and his miserable grog. In another hour 
I hoped to be on shore, forgetful of the past, and 
ready to return once more to my home, sweet home, 
and fatherland. 

As I stood on deck, expecting every moment that 
orders would be given to stop the vessel, and that I 
should hear the welcome sound of the anchor splash¬ 
ing into the water, we steamed gently past the 
admiral's ship. We had scarcely done so when up 
went a signal, which was immediately replied to ; 
and, to my astonishment and annoyance, I found that 
increased steam power was put on; Pera and its 
palaces fast receded from my view ; that of the Sultan 
was already passed ; and in my agony I clutched the 
doctor, who happened to be standing near me, by the 
collar, and asked whither we were bound. Was it to 
the Black Sea? Was it to Balaklava? Meanwhile 

12 


178 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


the silent captain stood calmly on the bridge. I and 
my despatches were as far away from his thoughts as 
the clouds above the distant mountain tops. What 
thought he of my mission ? What cared he for my 
anguish? At length, shutting up his confounded 
glasses, and putting them carefully in their case, he 
descended with cautious steps to the deck, and turn¬ 
ing to me, expressed his regret that he was compelled 
to take me to Beicos Bay. “ Beicos Bay!" said I, 
with some anger. “ Beicos Bay is ten miles from 
Pera. The thermometer is at 112; the stream of 
the Bosphorus running strong. How am I to 
return ?" 

“ You will find a caique," said the impassible com¬ 
mander, “ and the current is in your favour." 

“ A caique \” I replied. “ After all the difficulties 
I have overcome, my despatches will be delayed six 
hours. Had you landed me at Tophana, I should 
have delivered them ere now; and this at the very 
moment when I was congratulating myself upon 
having arrived at my destination only twelve hours 
after the Messagerie steamer ! ” 

“I am very sorry, very sorry indeed, Monsieur, 
man que voulez-vous ? ” added this illustrious speci¬ 
men of the maritime power of Prance, shru^ffino* his 
shoulders. “ Very sorry, inconsolable, but what could 
I do ? The Admiral signalled his orders that I should 


BEICOS BAY. 


179 


proceed to Beicos Bay to water, and I obeyed. As 
an English officer you doubtless understand discipline/* 

“ Discipline be -** I was about to say some¬ 

thing very uncourteous, but recollecting that I was 
on the quarter-deck of a French man-of-war, and 
moreover that courtesy to others is only a kind of 
self-respect, I merely replied, “ But why did you not 
signal that you had one of Her Majesty Queen 
Victoria's messengers on board, with important de¬ 
spatches ? The Admiral would have ordered you to 
put me on shore at once. Are we not allies ?" 

“ That, Monsieur/* returned the “ cool captain/* 
again shrugging his shoulders, “ was no part of my 
duty. I wish you good morning/* And with this 
he dived into his cabin. His own officers, with 
whom I had friendly intercourse, were disgusted, and 

I swore that-no, I did not swear; the following 

day I forgave and forgot him, though he caused me 
a very severe attack of fever. 

We reached Beicos Bay, where I went ashore with 
the doctor. The moment he put his foot on land his 
whole character appeared to change ; his tongue broke 
loose, and he inveighed, in no measured terms, against 
the captain's conduct. I found this gentleman a kind 
and amiable companion. He aided me to find a 
caique, which was a crazy affair, with only one man 
to row it. The distance to Pera was ten miles; a 

12—2 




180 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


scorching sun blazed above me, from the fierce rays 
of which I could only protect myself by taking off 
my coat, and using it as a covering for my head since 
I had no umbrella—an indispensable requirement 
under such circumstances. 

At length, half roasted, and half dead with head¬ 
ache and fatigue, I reached the City of the Sultan, 
and was in some manner compensated for all my 
troubles by finding that no correspondence whatever 
had reached the capital, save from Marseilles. I 
alone had turned up with my despatches, and a few 
of the latest papers from London—worth a king's 
ransom ; though I should think, by-the-bye, that 
amount must be a very doubtful one, as it must 
depend a good deal upon the quality of the monarch 
held in bondage. 

Ere quitting the subject of Constantinople, I would 
in all truth admit that the beauty of the city, the 
Bosphorus, and the environs, is greatly overrated. 
The traveller will do well to visit Brousa in early 
summer-time. A day to go there, another to return, 
and two to visit the neighbourhood will suffice. The 
varied scenery is beautiful, containing as it does the 
rich foliage of England, the vales of Italy, and the 
snow-clad mountains and pine woods of Switzerland. 

Here let me pause in these records; these pictures 
of the past, so lightly sketched, have often brought 


REFLECTIONS. 


181 


back sad memories to the writer—memories of home 
sorrows, and of dearly-loved ones lost to me upon 
this earth for ever. Still a long story of my work¬ 
ings and wanderings lies all before me,—now like a 
summer landscape, with its lights and shadows, its 
arid plains and sheltered valleys of green rest; now 
like a winter scene of snows and mountain tops, 
frozen streams, and bleak, bare roads, amid savage 
regions, where unfamiliar tongues sound harshly to 
the ear of the lonelv traveller. 


CHAPTER X. 


A JOURNEY TO THE CITY OF THE CZAR—BAD ARRANGEMENTS 
FOR TRAVELLING IN RUSSIA—WANT OF ROADSIDE INNS AND 
HOTELS—FROM LONDON TO BERLIN—DESCRIPTION OF THE 
PRUSSIAN CAPITAL—DIFFICULTIES OF THE REMAINDER OF THE 
ROUTE. 

But a very few years have elapsed since a journey to 
the City of the Czar—which title is a corruption of 
Csesar, used, by Ivan II. of Russia, about the year 
1579—was by no means an undertaking of pleasure, 
by whichever route the traveller elected, to perform 
his journey—either by the more direct oije through 
Konigsburg, over the frontier from Prussia, or by way 
of Warsaw. Whether amid the snows and intense 
cold of winter, or during the equally intense heats of 
summer; or even the still more repulsive rainy and 
muddy season of spring, when the great thaw com¬ 
mences, and the broad rivers are opened; go when or 
how one might, the journey was one of much fatigue, 
utterly devoid of interest, and not free from danger. 
Thus few wanderers from our fatherland were met 


JOURNEY TO RUSSIA. 


183 


with by the wayside; very few ventured so far away 
from home, save those on duty or business intent; with 
here and there a stray tourist, more earnest than his 
fellow -men in the desire to visit foreign lands, and 
better prepared with the means of encountering con¬ 
siderable expense for the very moderate comforts to be 
met with on the journey. True, at this period there 
were steam vessels, as there are now, from Hull, and 
from Stettin to Cronstadt, during the summer 
months. But the Baltic, even in midsummer-time, 
is very rarely a placid lake, on which to trust a 
stomach given to the horrors of sea-sickness. 

Meanwhile, the comfort of a journey, as connected 
with the conveyance of despatches, is by no means a 
question that ever enters the heads of those who send 
them; and better that it never should do so into those 
who convey them. The Royal messenger must utterly 
denounce such minor considerations as bodily comfort, 
or even bodily safety; and with a stout heart, health, 
easy digestion, good spirits, and courteous manner, he 
may defy the worst weather, and laugh to scorn the 
trials and perils of even a Russian journey. 

Raney, or rather picture to yourselves, “ ye gentle¬ 
men who live at home at ease,” a start from London 
during the second week in January. I will refer back 
to the days when railways existed as far as the Russian 
frontier only, or rather to Konigsberg, in Prussia, as 


184 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


well as from Berlin to Warsaw; from either of which 
places, whichever the route the traveller might select 
to Spcoff, within ten hours of St. Petersburg, there 
was only the choice between a sledge and post-horses, 
or a weary, distressing lapse of days and nights in a 
heavy post diligence, the rumbling, and jolting, and 
foul smells of which were horrible to contemplate. 

Durum the heat of summer, without shade, road- 
side hotels, or the interests of fine scenery or historical 
associations, I am not certain that the sufferings and 
fatigues of the traveller were not greater than even 
in winter; and let my readers remember that when I 
say there are no roadside hotels in Russia, I only as¬ 
sert that which is literally the fact. True, there are 
posthouses, kept up by the Government; for the most 
part wretched abodes, without tree, or shrub, or garden 
to enliven them; standing desolate, surrounded by 
mile on mile of white snow and unbroken landscape; 
or in the centre of a burning, shadeless plain; or amid 
melting snow, mud, and misery. In these posthouses 
little was there to be obtained save warmth, which, in 
midwinter, I must admit, is a luxury. Beyond it, a 
“ zomava," or Russian urn of boiling water, bad rum, 
sugar, and good tea, was about all the traveller could 
count upon obtaining. Thus, woe to him who was 
not provided with creature comforts, or the necessa¬ 
ries of existence ! He might starve by the wayside; 


ROADSIDE ACCOMMODATION. 


185 


or arrive at his destination weak in nerve and spirits, 
and reduced to a suitable weight to ride for the Derby 
or Le^er. 

O 

4 

The railroad, however, which is now opened all the 
way from Petersburg to Berlin, as well as from Peters¬ 
burg to Warsaw, has naturally changed all this; and 
he who recollects these northern journies of the past 
is alone capable of forming any just estimate of the 
comparative comfort of the present journey, deplor¬ 
ably uninteresting though it still is, and far more in¬ 
jurious to health than on wheels. 

Still as regards St. Petersburg, or Petersburg with¬ 
out the Saint, it is in many respects a grand city, 
watered by a noble river, the Neva. Let me, however, 
in the words of a Royal Messenger, first speak of the 
past. I will not go back very many years, for in sim¬ 
ple adventures like these, read over a blazing fire in 
a comfortable arm-chair, or under a shady lime tree, 
with the additional solace of a first-rate Havannah, 
the shell of the nut should be easy to crack. 

It was on a bitter night in early spring-time that I 
first left the capital of Queen Victoria for that of the 
Czar of all the Russias. My journey to Berlin is 
briefly told; and although that portion of it as far as 
Cologne is greatly affected by my countrymen, I do not 
hesitate to assert that it has scarcely more to interest 
than the onward route to the Russian capital. 


186 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


Ofttimes a rough and sickening passage from Dover 
to Calais or Ostencl; an unpardonable and unexplain¬ 
able delay of three or four hours at Lille, in an incon¬ 
venient and uncomfortable buffet, or station; a 
nauseous cup of liquid mis-termed coffee; and then 
onwards, still with incessant uncalled-for delays, with 
little means of supporting nature, at least of satisfy¬ 
ing a traveller’s appetite, and not twenty miles of in¬ 
teresting country till you reach Cologne at 4 P.M., 
having left London at 8 p.m. on the previous night— 
a journey which might easily be performed in fourteen 
or sixteen hours. 

To do only justice to the present proprietor of the 
railway station at that perfumed-water manufacturing 
and cathedral inspecting city, he has, by means of a 
good table cVhote , served promptly on the arrival of 
the train, and by comfort above-stairs, converted that 
which was heretofore a high-priced eating and smok¬ 
ing-room, with a sanded floor below-stairs, into a con¬ 
venient and civilized region, where the traveller 
can snatch three hours’ repose, and satisfy his hunger. 

I must freely confess that three hours has ever ap¬ 
peared to me a very nearly adequate period in which 
to perambulate the much-vaunted city. True, the 
cathedral is magnificent, and will be still more so if 
ever completed. This is the great point of interest to 
the British tourist. The next is the purchase of a 


COLOGNE. 


187 


bottle of eau cle Cologne,—a very difficult purchase to 
decide oil without knowledge of the special establish¬ 
ment at which it should be made, inasmuch as there 
are almost twoscore shops in the city, the proprietors 
of which are all supposed to be—and, indeed, suppose 
themselves to be, each and every one the original and 
absolute Jean Maria Farina. Moreover, every con- 
cocter of eau de Cologne—and it is a very simple con¬ 
coction, which can be made by any old housewife— 
appears to have received the first prize from and at 
every exhibition in Europe and the East. Indeed, I 
know it to be a fact, that on the face of one shop there 
are no less than a dozen gilded signs or medals, the 
owner of which, being questioned as to his celebrity 
and success, quietly shrugged his shoulders, and said, 
“ Mafoi ! what law is there to prevent my putting 
up whatever sign I like ?” So having purchased your 
eau de Cologne, and admired the cathedral, pass on 
your way in happy ignorance of the rest of the city. 

From Cologne to Berlin, twelve hours; having 
neither time nor inclination to halt at Dusseldorf, 
Hanover, Magdeburg, or Minden, take my advice, 
and sleep if you can to Potsdam; you will have lost 
nothing by the way. Then wake up, rub your eyes, 
take a passing look at the palace, and Sans Souci; and, 
as you glide on, prepare yourself to enter Berlin, wheie 
I crave permission to halt a few hours. 


188 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


Berlin, if one of the handsomest, is nevertheless, tr. 
the stranger, one of the dullest cities in Europe. The 
why, it is difficult precisely to explain, save that the 
population walk about before dinner—and the hour for 
that gastronomic indulgence among Germans is gene¬ 
rally an early one—as if killing the minutes till that 
precious period arrives ; and then, having satisfied their 
appetites to repletion, for the benefit of digestion they 
smoke or sleep away their existence in a semi-doze, 
till the season of bedtime arrives, and they can fully 
induge in slumber. However, to do them only justice, 
they are early risers—too early for those who like to 
enjoy a matutinal snooze without being disturbed. I 
speak more particularly of the respectable and middle 
classes, who, for the most part, satisfy their appetites 
at table d’hotes, which are innumerable in the city. 
How the lower class fare I scarcely dare to say. In 
wintertime, I imagine, sour-krout—cabbage and fat 
bacon—forms the piece de resistance , varied in sum¬ 
mer by veal, stewed prunes, and cucumbers. Among 
the higher classes there is little or no hospitality, ac¬ 
cording to the English acceptation of the term. I do 
not say there is no kindness, or intellectual association, 
or passing courtesy (cheap enough); but there is no 
wholesome, large-hearted hospitality. People may 
receive all but the latter, and yet starve physically as 
from ennui . 


BERLIN. 


189 


Daring very frequent visits to Berlin I have re¬ 
ceived cards from counts, and barons, and chevaliers, 
and squires of high and low degree, enough to build 
the biggest house that infants ever delighted in up¬ 
setting ; but as yet I have never discovered whether 
the beau monde, who winter in the capital of the King 
by the grace of God, if not by the voice of his people, 
keep male or female culinary artists, when or how 
they dine. Bismarck never asked me to dinner—not 
even to smoke a pipe with him, so I have never htid 
the opportunity of refusing his polite invitation. In¬ 
deed, the foreigner who can honestly assert, even after 
a longer residence in the Prussian capital than has 
ever fallen to my lot, that he is practically acquainted 
with the aristocratic society of that city—being an 
aristocrat himself,—and can fully demonstrate the 
same, must be a man of no common genius. 

I well know, to the cost of my digestion, how the 
world dine at German hotels at 3 p.m., for twenty 
groschen, or about two shillings a head, hochheimer 
of course not included, nor coffee, nor chasse, nor bad 
cigars; and I also know, however good the food is of 
its kind, that no English stomach can stand it, and 
survive for a month. It appears to me that a Ger¬ 
man dines as if solely to fill himself, and then rests 
and chews the cud; indeed, I have always wondered 
why Holloway the illustrious, or Cockle the anti- 


190 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


bilious, have not established wholesale agents north of 
the Rhine. The precepts of Banting are certainly 
very little followed in this region. But dining at 
table d'hote, and dining in a pleasant private house, 
with agreeable society, combining crinolines and 
courtesies, neat ankles, truffles, and iced champagne, 
are luxuries wide apart; and I must confess, after the 
duties, pleasures, or fatigues of a well-spent day, it is 
agreeable—vastly pleasant, in fact—to sit at the latter 
board; while it is destructive alike to health, time, 
and digestion, to submit to the discomfort of the 
former, where more than once I have endured the 
ordeal of sitting between two Germans, neither of 
whom uttered a word through the whole repast, and 
who ere it was ended smoked their cigarettes in my 
face, without the common courtesy of soliciting my 
approval. 

By St. Hubert, the only man I know, in these 
modern days, at Berlin, who understands the word 
hospitality and practises it, is her gracious Majesty's 
representative, and his salary should be doubled. In 
fact, I quite agree with the noble lord who boldly 
asserted that the kernel of diplomacy was discovered 
in a good cook, and pleasant society around a well- 
regulated table. 

Of the city of Berlin I have little more to say. 
When you have walked “Unter den Linden/'and 
looked on the truly magnificent equestrian statue of 


SOCIETY IN THE PRUSSIAN CAPITAL. 191 


Frederick the Great; strolled in theTier-garden (ancient 
deer forest), and lingered for an hour, weather per¬ 
mitting, in KrolPs garden ; driven over to Charlotte n- 
burg—a pleasant drive, where your interest is lost in 
the place itself, from the wretched manner in which, 
as a royal palace, it is kept up; railed it to Potsdam* 
and Sans Souci; and, if you are a lover of the ceramic 
art, which I confess to be, visited various shops, mis- 
termed curiosity shops—principally kept by Jews, 
with whom it is impossible to deal, from their exorbi¬ 
tant demands, though a keen connoisseur may some¬ 
times catch them napping—for there are occasions when 
they ask ten pounds for an article not worth ten 
thalers, and at others ten thalers for an article worth 
ten pounds,—you have, in my humble opinion, ex¬ 
hausted the delights of this Prussian capital, and may 
proceed, as I did, to Petersburg. 

One word ere I start, however, with reference to 
the hotels at Berlin ; of which, to speak only injus¬ 
tice, there are several very good. Perhaps the two 
best, for the passing traveller, are the Hotels d'Angle- 
terre and Russie, situated on the river Spree, at the 
end of the Linden, and certainly in one of the best 
situations in the city. I prefer the Hotel d’Angle- 
terre. Nothing can exceed its cleanness, or the cour- 

* By no means neglect a visit to Potsdam. On your arrival 
order your dinner at the “ Hermit,” which is the name of the 
hotel. Then visit the King’s and the Marble Palaces. 


192 


THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 


tesy and attention of all parties, from master to porter. 
The food is good, the table d'hote much frequented; 
and an Englishman may enjoy his matutinal fare— 
tea, toast, eggs, or cutlets—with the Times newspaper 
daily; while the charges are by no means unreason¬ 
able, though extras, as far as possible, in all German 
hotels should be avoided. And now for the far North. 

At the period to which I more particularly allude, 
the railway from Berlin was open to Konigsberg, and 
thence was unfinished to Spcoff, within a few hours 
of the northern capital. Arrived, therefore, at Konigs¬ 
berg, there was no alternative but that of wheeling it, 
weather permitting, or sledging, if there was suf¬ 
ficient snow. Now the first time that it was my 
duty to perform this of course very agreeable journey, 
it was, as I have said, early spring-time ; just, in 
fact, at the very period when the weather was in¬ 
tensely cold, yet not to say precisely frosty. In fact, 
it would be somewhat difficult to say what it was, 
except indeed vastly disagreeable. True, I had a 
comfortable carriage, and, as far as Kovno, on the 
Niemen—that historical river—Prussian and Polish 
post-horses rattled me along through mud and mire 
well-nigh as fast as the present railways,—quite as 
fast as those which travel through our pleasant, in¬ 
deed charming Devonia, where nature’s loveliness, 
combined with the softest of climates, goes far to 


RAILWAY TRAVELLING IN RUSSIA. 


193 


compensate for the more than German slowness of the 
inhabitants. From Kovno to Spcoff the travelling 
became, as it were, purely Russian. Railways were 
only in the distance. Poteragenas* and post-houses, 
serfish postillions, with their small but hardy little 
horses, were in full force; and, save that I know not 
of a mile of country throughout the route above 
named which calls forth the slightest interest or ex¬ 
citement from him who may be compelled to travel 
it, as far as the road is considered, it is by no means 
bad going. Arrived at Kovno, or I should say on the 
left bank of the river Niemen, the plot thickens. In 
midsummer you rattle over a bridge of boats, in mid¬ 
winter you glide over a road of ice; but in spring¬ 
time, ere the river is clear of ice, or at the time when 
the hoary monarch, King Winter, is contemplating 
abdication, you come to a dead halt, and find your¬ 
self all at once in a den of thieves—that is, sitting in 
your carriage, which is instantly surrounded by two- 
score dirty-bearded, rascally Jews, all prepared to 
take your money, if not your life. Reason comes to 
your aid. You must halt where you are, or submit 
alike to their impositions and accept their help. 
There is no alternative. If you want to get across 
that celebrated river, make your bargain, the best 

* A pass to secure post horses, granted to diplomatic and 
official travellers. 


13 


194 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


you can—generally a bad one,—and resign yourself 
to your fate calmly, while they pocket your roubles 
ere they aid your safe transit to Kovno. I recollect a 
very amusing story, having reference to a gentleman, 
amiable in all the phases of life, but physically an 
admirable subject for Banting, who arrived in a heavy 
travelling carriage one dark night on the bank of the 
river I have named, having made, as he justly ob¬ 
served, a liberal bargain—to cross the river with his 
carriage for about fifty roubles, or near ten pounds. 
He calmly wrapped his furs around him, and watched 
the process of his carriage and luggage being 
placed on the floating ice. This done, he moved for¬ 
ward with the intent of getting therein, when a group 
of these dirty-bearded German rogues, rushing at 
him, exclaimed, “No, no, mein hen ; we bargained 
to take your carriage across, but not to take you in 
it. The ice will bear the carriage, but we question 
whether it would bear youand so another outlay 
was demanded. But at all times the question is one 
difficult to settle. Snow there was still on the ground, 
—sufficient, indeed, on most parts of the road to 
travel by sledge; while on others perhaps, here and 
there, for a few versts the highway was quite open ; 
in fact, in some parts so broken that a sledge must 
either stick fast or be dragged to pieces. In my dif¬ 
ficulties I applied to the postmaster, a dirty, besotted, 


I 


CROSSING THE NIEMEN. 


195 


bearded, bullying Jew, whose only object in life was 
that of converting one rouble into two, extracting at 
the same time as many as possibly could be extracted, 
honestly or dishonestly, from the pocket of one who 
he knew must get forward at all hazards and at any 
outlay. 

Shrugging his shoulders, and addressing me in a 
few words of impossible French and worse German, 

ending by an harangue in Polish as incomprehensible 

«* 

as Arabic, he next appealed to one traveller who had 
just arrived from Petersburg, who declared that the 
road was sufficiently open for wheels, while another 
asserted they were in a perfect state for sledging. 
Then the landlord or postmaster insisted on the 
necessity of having my wheels greased, and two new 
linch-pins being supplied to the axles, which process, 
after considerable delay, was performed by a surly 
blacksmith, in whose pocket doubtless might have 
been found those which he had extracted; and then 
the glass of one of my lamps, which doubtless had 
been purposely smashed, required replacing; and at 
last, after disbursing a sufficient number of roubles 
to keep the whole mass of vagabonds in clover for a 
month, I had no alternative but that of starting as 
the shades of night apiproached, in a sledge—that is 
to say, my carriage placed on a sledge, the wheels- 
being attached with ropes on the top of it, in case of 

15—2 


196 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


their being required. Recollect this was my first 
Russian journey. Heaven knows at the time I 
almost wished it might be my last. 

It was well perhaps that I should be thus early 
initiated into the pleasures of a Russian winter, or 
early spring, perhaps the worst season of the year. 
On my life, I do verily believe that the good people 
of England—as they sit over a blazing coal fire, 
reading the Times , or the Telegraph , which is cheaper, 
ere they are spun across the country in a comfortable 
first-class carriage from Putney or Richmond to their 
club, and home to dinner ; or sally forth for a day's 
shooting or a pleasant walk, having suggested to dear 
Harriet or Mary to put on a thick pair of Balmorals, 
—I do believe that these good people imagine that a 
royal messenger travels with a courier and a cook, 
journeys through Europe in a palanquin, or saunters 
down the Rhine in bright autumn-time, in happy 
association with bright eyes and auburn locks, shaded 
by the neatest of hats and the most graceful of 
feathers. They would judge differently had they 
been compelled to travel on such a night as was 
before me; but I was tolerably accustomed to rough 
it, so, gathering my fur cloak around me, I lighted 
my Havannah, and made up my mind for the worst. 

I had been recommended by a Russian prince—a 
real prince (for there are many whose lineage it would 



BENEFITS OF COLD WATER. 


197 


be difficult to trace), a true nobleman in position, as 
well as in character and mind, to try cold water to 
keep the blood warm. “ A glass of cold water/ 7 
said he, “ taken in your carriage while changing 
horses, is, believe me, far better than hot tea imbibed 
in the stifling atmosphere of a posthouse. Do not 
leave your carriage or throw off your furs, but take a 
glass of cold water, eat a biscuit, and smoke as much 
as you like/ 7 I confess to not having followed his 
advice : it may be, that unpleasant night, as a bottle 
of sherry had frozen in the pocket of my carriage, I 
thought it just possible that a glass of water might 
freeze in my inward man; so I stuck to tea and a 
dash of brandy, and thus got through the dark and 
dreary hours of the first night. But as the sun was 
sinking on that of the second, the weather suddenly 
changed, and with the thermometer I own my courage 
fell: hundreds of dreary versts were still before me 
ere I could again reach the welcome railway; and 
the snow, beginning to fall lightly at first, soon came 
down in bucketsful, while the wind howled like so 
many demons. 

Vastly agreeable, said I to myself, as I wrapped 
my fur cloak closer and closer around me, and imbibed 
a mouthful of my half-frozen sherry. And this is 
the pleasant journey I was supposed to be taking to 
the City of the Czar. By St. Hubert, I scarcely 


198 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


recollect whether it was my friend Brown or Jones, 
who had congratulated me on the delights of my office I 
I only wish one or the other had been in my sledge, 
and I enjoying a cutlet a la soulise at the “Bag." 

When apprised that I was starting for Bussia, one 
friend had exclaimed, “ Lucky dog ! I only wish I 
was going with you or for youwhile another, after 
a friendly greeting, assured me that there was no 
position in the world he coveted like that of a royal 
messenger. And so is it now, and one endeavours to 
believe it, as Johnny This, or Freddy That, accosts 
you at Newmarket or in Piccadilly with, “Where do 
you come from ? " “I arrived this morning from 
Constantinople." “ From Constantinople ! Any to¬ 
bacco, eh?" Or, “Why, it seems only yesterday 
that you had just arrived from Madrid : those were 
the best olives I ever tasted—bring me some more, 
that's a good fellow. And don't forget the stamps. 
Anything on the Derby?" And thus we part, I to 
perform the enviable duties of a physical telegram, he 
to perform his arduous duties in Downing-street or 
elsewhere, read the morning papers amidst red tape 
and official envelopes, knowing about as much of 
foreign travel, practically, as those pleasure tourists 
who while away a month of autumnal holidays on the 
beaten tracks of continental sight-seers, or the far 
wiser ramblers who seek to know something 1 of our 


REFLECTIONS ON HOME COMFORTS. 


199 


own lovely isle, amici flower-bedecked snug English 
cottages by the wayside, or clean and comfortable 
roadside inns. No, the comforts of home, whether 
simple or luxurious, are only fully appreciated by 
those, believe me, who really travel. 

By travel, I by no means imply taking a pleasant 
autumnal trip, or even a trip up the Nile or to Jeru¬ 
salem, selecting your own time and weather, with a 
courier or servant who speaks all the languages in 
Europe, makes your coffee ere you rise in the morn¬ 
ing, poaches your eggs or mends your pantaloons, 
with half Fortnum and Mason’s stock of potted 
meats, marmalades, and sauces to fall back upon 
when the native commissariat fails. When I speak 
of travelling, I am thinking 1 of the traveller who 
leaves the beaten track, or whose duties oblige him 
at all hours and during all seasons, for several days 
and nights, to endure a cramped sledge or carriage, 
without room to stretch his legs, with a cricked neck 
when he awakes from a fevered slumber, with his feet 
half frozen or transformed into burning coals, accord¬ 
ing to the weather; who must get up after a brief 
night’s rest by the light of a dip, with the ther¬ 
mometer below freezing-point; or who has to cross 
the Gulf of Lyons, or that of Genoa, in a steamer, 
on a dark winter’s night with half a gale of north¬ 
east in his teeth. 


200 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


However, as I have said, the snow came down by 
bushels, a sort of last snowstorm of the season, a 
farewell to winter, by no means agreeable, but to be 
endured; and as such I did my best to endure it, 
watching the fast receding daylight as regretfully as 
the last glimpse of a loved one. In this pleasant 
position I had accomplished about two-thirds of a 
long stage of twenty-two versts, and my gallant 
little horses were beginning to show signs of fatigue; 
and I was consoling myself in the knowledge at 
least that I should soon change them, when bang we 
all went into a snow-drift, and stuck fast; neither 
the whip and voice of my driver, nor the thick stick 
he tore from a neighbouring rail, and with which he 
began to belabour the poor animals till I jumped 
from the carriage and prevented his further brutality, 
availed aught. There we were fast, high and dry— 
that is to say, deep and wet. There was nothing to 
be done, but patiently to hope that the little horses 
would recover their strength and wind; but alas! far. 
from it: the longer we remained, the thicker fell the 
snow, and the firmer the horses and carriage were 
embedded in it. I really began to feel I should 
perish that night, and I was about to suggest to the 
poor driver our only hope—viz., that he should come 
into the carriage and share my last drop of sherry 
and the remainder of my tobacco, when, O joyful 


IN A SNOW STORM. 


201 


sight! two small country sledges hove in view, tra¬ 
velling the same way as ourselves. Not a moment 
did I lose, hut at once plunged into a wild species of 
pantomime, one hand filled with silver roubles, the 
other demonstrating our position; and, to do the 
drivers only justice, they lost no time in attaching 
their two fresh horses to mine, and thus dragged us 
free from the drift. And I really cannot say who 
were the more pleased,—I, as I rattled over the four 
last versts of the stage, or my deliverers, as they 
pocketed the roubles. 


CHAPTER XI. 


RUSSIAN ADVENTURES—A SLEDGE ACCIDENT—I REACH ST. 

PETERSBURG -AN ENRAGED RUSSIAN OFFICER — RUSSIAN 

BRUTALITY—THE EMANCIPATION OF THE SERFS—LAM AND 
PUNISHMENT IN RUSSIA—THE POLICE—SERVILITY OF THE 
RUSSIAN LOWER CLASSES. 

One of my most vivid recollections of Russian adven¬ 
ture relates to a journey during which I endured some 
of the most painful, I may say dangerous hours of my 
life, owing to my driver being drunk, of which fact I 
was utterly ignorant when we started from the post- 
house. The night was clear, and the moon shone 
brightly from a cloudless sky; but the weather was 
intensely cold, in fact, the centre of the road was as 
hard as a sheet of ice, and consequently I travelled 
rapidly, while on each side of me the snow was soft 
and many feet deep. I was alone, and had very 
recently enjoyed a cup of hot tea, to which had been 
added a dash of cognac; and having lighted my pipe, 
I jumped into my sledge warm and comfortable—so 
warm and cozy, in fact, that I soon fell into a sound 


A DRUNKEN SLEDGE DRIVER. 


203 


and undisturbed slumber, to which the smooth and 
rapid progress of my sledge greatly contributed, when 
all at once I was aroused from my home dreams by a 
tremendous crash—to find myself, sledge, and horses 
firmly fixed, indeed half buried, in the snow. To 
rub my eyes, jump from the carriage heavily fur-clad 
as I was, and to plunge up to my thighs in the snow 
(for there had been a recent thaw, and the snow was 
soft on the road-sides), and at the same time to recol¬ 
lect that I was unarmed and alone in the centre of 
an unfathomable Russian pine forest, at two a.m., 
with my despatches in the sledge, and no help at 
hand, was the work of a moment. In the next in¬ 
stant I was startled by a human howl, of such in¬ 
tensity that I verily believe no hungry pack of wolves 
in the forest could have rivalled it; and at the same 
time I discovered that my postillion was in fierce 
combat with one of the tallest and most powerful men 
I ever beheld, while a dozen other wretches of the 
same type were howling and screeching, and rushing 
to the scene of action. By the bright light of the 
moon I was also enabled to observe in the road track 
before me about a score of sledges heavily laden, each 
drawn by one small horse, and carrying merchandize; 
while two lay floundering in the snow on the oppo¬ 
site side of the road, against which we had driven 
and 2 *ot the worst of it. All these untoward events 

O 


204 


THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 


occurred in far less time than I have told them. Be¬ 
fore I proceed, however, it may he as well to remark 
that while every word I write is fact, an order did 
exist, and probably still exists, in Russia, which com¬ 
mands that everything and every person—man and 
beast—shall make way for those who travel with a 
“ Poteragena,” or authority for courier horses, or, in 
other words, all official persons. But the wretched 
serf, my postillion, though not too drunk to keep his 
seat while his little horses kept the road at a gallop, 
was far too drunk to see the impossibility of passing 
anything but a flock of crows in the narrow lane 
between two high banks of snow. Therefore, as I 
subsequently discovered, although every human effort 
had been made on his blowing his horn to permit us 
to pass, it was all in vain. But he was in no state 
to reason; moreover, he probably saw double, which 
naturally widened the wayside. Thus driving furi¬ 
ously, he upset the hindermost sledge, at the same 
time, in Russian fashion, lashing the driver with his 
whip; but the second shock was too great even for 
my heavier sledge, and thus we became fixed, horses 
and carriage, fast in the deep snow. Happily, most 
happily, reason came to my aid, and a moment’s 
thought sufficed to convince me of the dangerous posi¬ 
tion in which I found myself, and that discretion 
surely was far better than valour. It was quite evi- 


AN UPSET IN THE SNOW. 


205 


dent that my driver was in fault; and liad I at¬ 
tempted to take his part, or made any effort to defend 
him, my own life, as well as the despatches, would 
have been perilled. Heavily therefore as I was clad— 
observing that blows had already passed between him 
and the athletic Russian I have named—-I made a 
rush at the former, wrenched the uplifted whip from 
his hand, seized him firmly by the throat, and throw¬ 
ing him backwards on the snow, I broke the whip 
in two, and stood with outstretched arms calmly be¬ 
fore him. Meanwhile the whole troop of sledge- 
drivers had gathered around us, evidently showering 
threats and imprecations on our heads, which unplea¬ 
sant language I happily did not understand; at the 
same time uttering the most diabolical howls I ever 
heard before or since. Bitter cold as was the night, 
the perspiration poured down my forehead, and if I 
did not experience absolute fear—and it occurs to me 
that I certainly did—why, I most assuredly uttered 
an inward prayer for Heaven’s protection, feeling that 

the odds were twenty to one that I should perish like 

* 

a dog, or be murdered far away from all I loved on 
earth, in the dense pine solitude. It was by no 
means a pleasant position in which to find one’s self, 
I do assure you gentlemen who live at home at ease. 
Indeed, had I ventured, without the aid of a Tom 
Sayers or two, to strike a blow, or made the slightest 


206 THE queen’s messenger. 

effort to defend my drunken friend, then cooling him¬ 
self in the snow, with the thermometer 29° below 
zero, the fate of both of us would have been vastly 
disagreeable, for I never beffeld such brutal anger, 
nay, ferocity, as that which the moonlight permitted 
me to discover on the dirty faces of the leader and his 
followers, as by offers of money, attempted smiles, 
which must have looked like grins, and general 
affability of demeanour, I endeavoured to appease 
them. 

At this moment the postillion arose from his sprawl¬ 
ing position on the snow ; luckily, I had possessed my¬ 
self of his whip, for making a rush at the leaders, he 
cut their slight cord traces, and, vaulting on to one of 
the animals* backs, tried to make off, whether to 
escape for assistance or leave me to my fate I know 
not; but thought rapid as lightning soon told me 
that if left alone I must perish in the snow, even if I 
escaped a worse fate. Once more, then (recollect he 
was intoxicated, and a lighter man than myself), I 
threw him on the snow. At this moment how great 
was my happiness when a travelling Pole, who spoke 
German, rode up in the midst of the fray, coming 
from the direction towards which I was travelling! 
No glimpse of a distant sail to the wrecked sailor on 
a raft, no alms to the half-starved beggar, was ever 
more welcome than the appearance of that bearded 


A FIGHT FOR LIFE. 


207 


Jew. I never look on the race without thinking of 
him, and could scarcely refuse to accept a bill, even 
though it were to be discounted at sixty per cent., were I 
again to meet him. He immediately came to my aid, 
and it is to his help as much as the calm demeanour 
which Providence permitted me to assume in the hour 
of danger, that in all probability I am indebted for 
the privilege of being alive to tell this tale. Suffice 
it to say that, after considerable parley, great humi¬ 
liation and politeness on my part, some forbearance 
and inconceivable vociferation on that of my enemies, 
peace was made, and the leader seemed at length to 
be convinced that I had had no share in the upsetting 
of his sledges or their contents, which lay scattered 
on the snow; and I must do him the justice to admit 
that, when thus convinced he contented himself with 
liberal indulgence in savage threats and oaths, which 
he launched at the head of my driver, but which 
were to be put into practical execution on some future 
day. He then called his men together, and after 
herculean efforts, they extracted my half-buried sledge 
and horses from the snow, dragged it past the caravan, 
and sent me on my way rejoicing. 

I have in no manner exaggerated the simple facts 
of what occurred to me on that never-to-be-forgotten 
night, or rather, early morning. I have, indeed, 
scarcely told of half my sufferings; though to those 


208 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


accustomed to travel on the pleasant highways and 
bveways of our safe and civilized island it may appear 
as a dream or a fiction. 

Having given lialf-a-dozen roubles to the Polish 
Jew, with which donation he appeared greatly elated, 
and a dozen or more to the merchant and his serfs— 
who were immediately as desirous to kiss my feet as 
they had previously been eager to break my head—I 
remounted my sledge, helped the miserable animal in 
human form, my postillion, to take his place before me, 
and away we went again as fast as if a pack of wolves 
had been on our track. In fact, I cared not how fast 
we went so that we left the horrible forest far behind 
us, and reached the next posthouse in safety. 

Clear of the forest, I returned the broken whip to 
my driver, and thanking Providence for my safe de¬ 
liverance, I pursued my way rejoicing. 

True, I had still much to fear, for I was literally in 
a vapour bath. The perspiration streamed from my 
head to my feet; but I dared not cast aside my heavy 
furs, for the night was intensely cold, and had I done 
so I might have been frozen to death—scarcely a plea- 
sant secpiel to an escape from murder. However, we 
happily soon reached the next posthouse, and instead 
of saying a word in anger, I paid my postillion double 
the usual donation, doubtless to his great surprise and 
satisfaction; fresh horses were harnessed speedily to 


A VAPOUR BATH IN THE SNOW. 


209 


my sledge, my only object being to get forward, and 
it was evident my new driver had been informed of 
my liberality, for the little horses actually flew. 

I have frequently since thought, in calmer moments, 
what might have been the sequel had the heavy cud¬ 
gel of the leader of the caravan chanced to have fallen 
on the head instead of the shoulder of my postillion. 
Possibly I should have been robbed, and then left to 
my fate in that dreary forest to watch over his corpse 
till daylight returned; or I might have perished my¬ 
self ; or, surviving the perils of the night, might have 
been denounced as the murderer of my dead compa¬ 
nion. Nor would the accusation have appeared by 
any means improbable, for ere serfdom ceased in 
Russia, colonels, and even sub-lieutenants in the army 
and clerks in public officers, were wont at times to hit 
their imagined inferiors over the head very hard if 
aught displeased them, as I shall hereafter demon¬ 
strate. 

A Russian official travelling, as I was, with de¬ 
spatches, on his arrival at Petersburg, which city I 
reached without further mishap, would instantly have 
reported the whole story most minutely, and perhaps 
with considerable exaggeration, to his superiors (if he 
believed he had any) or the authorities ; the postillion 
would probably have been subject to the knout, and 
then sent for change of air to Siberia, while his wife 

14 


210 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


ancl family were left to starve at home. For what? 
For having just swallowed that which many pleasant 
gentlemen do swallow nightly over a cheerful fireside 
in a snug arm-chair previously to turning into a four- 
poster—just one glass of racci, instead of brandy or 
gin and water. True, he was very imprudent, and 
ought to have taken it on his arrival instead of his de- 
parture; but sixteen versts on a Russian winter's 
night on the outside of a sledge might he some ex- 
cuse for this little indiscretion. I'faith, I would myself 
have given a sovereign for a glass of steaming cognac 
and water, as I sat perspiring in my sledge. So I 
forgot and forgave him, in a spirit of Christian for¬ 
bearance. Yet I fear he would have been considerably 
licked by a Russian traveller, as a forerunner of the 
knout to be received from the authorities, without an 
effort to retaliate, poor wretch ! inasmuch as, at the 
period to which I allude, no Russian traveller of any 
position considered it necessary to waste words on 
those who were rarely regarded (though with hearts 
to feel, and souls to be saved) otherwise than as mere 
beasts of burden. Thus, in the mute language of the 
amiable and aristocratic Russian, a whack over the 
head from a thick stick simply meant “ Drive faster !" 
or a kick from a thick boot served for the query, 
“Why did you not stop sooner ?" However, English 
gentlemen and officers of high and low degree are 


TREATMENT OF THE INDUSTRIAL CLASSES. 211 


happily brought up in a different manner; conse¬ 
quently, save to my select friends in the City of the 
Czar, I never told the tale of that fearful night, the 
memory of which is not the less engraven on my 
mind; and all I hope is, that the poor fellow who 
shared with me those bitter hours in the snow still 
lives and drives, taking more care as to the time and 
measure of his potations—though I greatly fear me, 
or I read badly the face of man, he was marked out 
for the vengeance of that athletic merchant whose 
goods and chattels he had scattered on the snow. 

In corroboration of the physical liberty, if I may so 
term it, appropriated to themselves by Russian swells, 
or such as considered themselves to be important per¬ 
sonages in the eyes of their neighbours, I shall here 
give an anecdote, every word of which is true, though 
to my English readers it may appear almost an im¬ 
possible occurrence in a civilized country; neverthe¬ 
less, I believe all the actors in the little drama still 
live and travel, and I cannot do better than relate it 
in the words of one from whose lips I heard it. 

Some few years since, a courteous, kind, and 
talented Russian of high rank held the post of diplo¬ 
matic minister at Rome. Daring his sojourn there, 

/ 

which was of some years* duration, he had become 
acquainted with an artist of considerable celebrity, 
whose sketches of the environs of Rome, and Rome 

14—2 


212 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


itself, greatly pleased him. Thus it was that, when 
about to proceed to Petersburg, the Russian sug¬ 
gested that his friend the artist should accompany 
him on his leave of absence, and take some Russian 
views. The artist, who shall be nameless, very will¬ 
ingly accepted the invitation, and doubtless looked 
forward with pleasurable anticipations to the profits 
as well as the change. So, one fine morning, patron 
and painter left the Pontifical City far behind, and 
journeyed on pleasantly towards that of the Czar of 
all the Russias. Having passed the Niemen, and 
reached Kovno, the worthy diplomatic prince, or 
baron, as might be, remarked that in a few versts, 
which probably meant a hundred—for distance is 
thus lightly alluded to in Russia—they should arrive 
at a posthouse, in the neighbourhood of which lie 
had a property, to which he would gladly pay a flying 
visit ,—“ And," he added, u as you must be greatly 
fatigued, a good night's rest, while I am absent, will 
be doubtless most acceptable, and refresh your limbs 
after so many days and nights’ confinement in a 
carriage." “ Indeed it will," replied the artist, and 
thus the matter was decided. 

On arriving at the posthouse the worthy post¬ 
master regretted that he had no bed to offer but his 
own, but that was entirely at his Excellency's or his 
friend's disposal, as, indeed, was all the house and its 


STORY OF A RUSSIAN OFFICIAL. 


213 


contents; and with this assurance the noble diplo¬ 
matist proceeded on a brief visit to his possessions, 
and the tired but happy artist was soon sound asleep 
between the landlord’s sheets, dreaming doubtless of 
the fair lands of Italy and of his good fortune; 
while the postmaster, who was gladdened by the 
knowledge that he would receive no end of roubles 
lor his courtesy, and who was “ in physic,” as they 
say, having imbibed a dose of castor oil, wrapped 
himself up warmly and stretched himself on the top 
of a warm stove in an outhouse—a Russian custom— 
and was soon as sound asleep as the artist. The 
night was one of those Northern nights when no 
traveller is desirous of being long detained for the 
change of horses;—and a Russian colonel is by no 
means the most patient man in the world under such 
circumstances. 

However, it unfortunately occurred that an officer 
of some rank, with his stars and ribbons, was on the 
road that night, and about two a.m. halted at the 
posthouse, and angrily called for fresh horses, as well 
as for the presence of the postmaster. Twenty 
minutes having elapsed without the appearance of 
either, he at length jumped from his carriage, and 
furiously entered the house. • 

“ Where are the horses ? and where is the post¬ 
master?” cried the enraged soldier, addressing a 


214 


THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 


miserable serf who stood trembling in the doorway; 
who assured the traveller that horses would soon be 
forthcoming, and that he had roused the postillions, 
but his master he could not find. 

“Not find him? not find the wretch?” exclaimed 
the furious colonel. “ Where is he gone ? which is 
his room? show it to me immediately.” 

“ This is his room, Excellency,” said the trembling 
serf, opening a door at hand. 

“ This is his room, is it ? I will teach him that 
this is not the manner to treat an officer of the 
imperial army. Here, you pig, bring me a light.” 

A light being brought, the offended traveller be¬ 
held, as he imagined, the postmaster in calm repose 
while he was kept waiting for his horses. 

Without a moments hesitation he rushed to the 
bedside, and seeing, as he believed, the unfortunate 
postmaster snug in bed, dragged him therefrom by 
the neck, and, ere he had discovered his error, imme¬ 
diately chastised the poor artist, as he stood in his 
shirt, with a heavy whip, notwithstanding his cries 
and shrieks, and diavolos, maleditos, struggles and 
vociferations, in his native language. In the midst of 
this cruel and unmanly assault the postmaster entered 
the room, with terror depicted on his countenance, 
and offered every possible apology, stating that his 
absence was caused by severe indisposition, together 


A MODEL OFFICER. 


215 


with the fact of his having given up his bed to the 
traveller, and removed his own quarters to an out¬ 
house. 

Whether his apologies were accepted by the in¬ 
furiated brute who disgraced the uniform he wore, or 
not, I never heard. Suffice it to say that this model 
officer and gentleman departed on his way, possibly 
rather elated than otherwise at having cruelly bela¬ 
boured an unoffending traveller. 

The feelings of the minister, however, were of a 
very different nature when he returned to the post- 
house, and found his poor suffering belaboured friend 
writhing under the combined effects of pain, anger, 
and humiliation. No assurances on his part, how¬ 
ever, tbat he would bring matters before the Em¬ 
peror, in the hope of putting an end to such cruel 
proceedings; no entreaties that the artist would 
accompany him to Petersburg, where he might 
obtain redress, and procure medical advice, would 
avail. Not a yard further would the belaboured 
traveller proceed. 

“No, indeed, no,” he protested; “had I known 
that you were bringing me from the Eternal City to 
this infernal den of savages, never would I have left 
fair Italy. I fully acquit your Excellency of any 
knowledge that the Emperor of Russia permitted his 
uniform to be worn by men such as he who has so 


216 


THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 


cruelly assaulted me; but I have seeu quite enough 
of the Czar’s dominions, and I have no desire to learn 
more either of the country or its inhabitants; and 
thus they parted. 

This little incident is only one among hundreds of 
a similar nature which daily occur on Russian high¬ 
ways. Happily, under the present sovereign, civili¬ 
zation now marches forward with decided strides. 


CHAPTER XII. 


THE EMANCIPATION OF THE SERES — TRUE NOBLEMEN IN 
RUSSIA—THE PUNISHMENT OF THE KNOUT—A NOTED MUR¬ 
DERER—ABJECT SERVILITY OF THE PEOPLE. 

As regards Russia, I regret to say, even in the clays 
we live and eat caviar and raptchicks, the step from the 
sublime to the ridiculous is not more sudden than 
that from brutality to servility. True, that the 
emancipation of the serfs has already gone far to put 
a stop to that cowardly mode of personal chastisement 
to which I have alluded; retaliation on the nose of a 
noble, even of the fourteenth degree, would be vastly dis¬ 
agreeable to him, who, though decked out in a military 
uniform, ventured to assault one whom heretofore he 
well knew dared not defend himself. It will, how¬ 
ever, take some time yet ere a Russian, male or female, 
of the lower class, is convinced that he is made of the 
same flesh and blood as he who is encased in an over¬ 
coat covered with decorations, for what noble actions. 


218 • THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 

it would be difficult to assert. Meanwhile, I confess 
I should rather enjoy the scene which would follow 
the crack of a Russian stick over the shoulder or head 
of an athletic Irish cabman for not driving fast 
enough. I take it the castigation of the knout would 
be nothing in comparison to the thrashing which 
would deservedly follow the assault. 

On reaching the last post-house, which I did with 
inconceivable delight, ere gaining the railway at 
Spcoff, I was practically convinced of the servility 
of the serf, as I had previously been of the brutality 
of the Russian noble. Not for one moment, how¬ 
ever, would I desire to include the whole race of 
Russian nobility, far from it; there are as good and 
well-bred, true and enlightened gentlemen in Russia, 
as in our fatherland; unhappily, they are in the 
minority. Circumstances, however, tend far to ame¬ 
liorate all things as regards civilization, and with 
time, it is to be hoped, that the talons of the eagle 
will be less sharp, and the bug of the bear more 
gentle; there is no doubt but that he who rules the 
state, desires no better than a reformation of his 
empire, commencing with the emancipation of his 
people from slavery and degradation. The sovereign 
who drives without ostentation daily about his capital, 
with his little daughter by his side, or who may be 
constantly seen walking alone on the quays, with the sole 


RUSSIAN NOBLEMEN. 


219 


companionship of a favourite Newfoundland dog, called 
Milord, or in the so-called summer garden, and who 
is justly beloved by his subjects, whatever may be his 
faults, is not the man to wield the rod of despotism 
with an iron hand. Czars of all the Russias, or Em¬ 
perors and Queens of continental countries, are by 
no means so free from ministerial control as may be 
imagined. We hear ever and anon of the Sultan 
having generously granted so many piastres from his 
private purse, or built a palace, or what not, at his 
own expense—all “ boshexcuse the word. The 
privy purse of sultans and despotic sovereigns is still 
the purse of the nation; and whatever the heart may 
dictate, the Government-head for the most part de¬ 
termines. If the Emperor of all the Russias 
could act freely, I very much question whether he 
would not even leave Cobden and Bright far behind 
in that which, in happy England, is often mis-termed 
reform, but which in Russia would be actual reform. 
The emancipation of the serfs was a noble act, and in 
due time will have the happiest results. Trial by 
jury is another step, both I fancy emanating from the 
Emperor. Meanwhile, though punishment by death 
is supposed not to be the law of the land, and there 
is no Calcraft, no hanging in Russia, they put 
criminals to death, or did do so very recently, in the 
most cruel and barbarous manner. But very few 


4 


220 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


years have elapsed, not three, I believe, since one man 
suffered the punishment of the knout four times ; it 
is simply running the gauntlet between two hundred 
men, each armed with a thick stick, until the number 
of blows awarded are received. It generally kills the 
culprit; if not, he is sent to Siberia to get well, which 
is almost an unparalleled case. Nevertheless, the indi¬ 
vidual to whom I allude did endure it; moreover, 
escaped, and made his way back to the capital; he 
has since been recaptured, and when before his judges, 
not only confessed to having murdered no less than 
seventeen persons, but also described when and where 
he had concealed the bodies. Many of them were 
actually found. 

Having made this explanation, he turned with the 
greatest effrontery to his prosecutor, a gentleman 
now living, of the name of G., and residing at Peters¬ 
burg, from whom he had stolen a watch, and observed 
—“ You think you have caught me, do you ? Do not 
flatter yourself, I shall soon escape again, and I will 
murder vou.” 

Notwithstanding his having been secured in one of 
the strongest cells in the gaol, he did escape; of 
course by bribing his jailors, how, they best know. 
This is fact; but perhaps the Russian police are, and 
if not reformed, will continue to be, not a protection 
to persons and property, but the most dangerous and 


PUNISHMENT OP THE KNOUT. 


221 


dishonest class that exists in the Russian capital or 
elsewhere. Indeed, the present arrangements and 
organization of that force, are unparalleled in their 
inefficiency in regard to its incapacity and brutality. 
Within the last month of the present year, a horrible 
murder was committed at mid-day on board an English 
merchant vessel frozen up in the Neva. The captain 
of the ship having gone on shore, left his wife in the 
cabin, when some miscreant or miscreants, as yet un¬ 
known, having literally smashed her head with the 
pendulum of a clock, decamped with every farthing 
they discovered on board, and probably would have 
left Petersburg with their booty, had it not been for 
the active exertions of the acting English consul, 
through whose means one man has at length been 
secured, who coolly confessed to having committed 
several murders of equal atrocity, if not this one. 

I know of no European capital where drunkenness 
more abounds under the midday sun or by the light of 
the moon—the drunkenness of mere animals, rather than 
the vile excesses of reasoning men—and it is scarcely 
to be credited, that although the passers by actually 
see a man, according to the common term, lying 
dead drunk in the street or by the way, and knowing 
that a few hours' exposure must actually kill him, not 
a soul dare touch him in fear of being accused of his 
murder. To such an extent has this fear of legal 


222 THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 

authority been carried, that even a policeman has been 
known to push a floating dead body from one side of 
a canal to the other, to get it out of his beat, and 
though a dozen were to float down the Neva, not a 
person would touch them. 

But let me now quit the subject of brutality and 
return to that of abject servility. Having, as I 
previously named, reached the last post house en route 
to Petersburg, ere gaining the railway, I was ac¬ 
costed by a poor woman with her head bound up, whom 
I feared was asking charity, and was about to give her 
a few copecks, when the postmaster, in bad German, 
informed me she was no beggar, but was soliciting 
permission to ride on my carriage to the next town 
for the purpose of having a tooth extracted, from 
which she was suffering agony, and had no means of 
conveyance. On hearing this, I own I felt inclined 
to take the poor woman into my carriage, but, on 
second thoughts, I suggested she should ride with the 
driver. In the first place, that, notwithstanding the 
good lady was over fifty, and unquestionably not 
fair, nor moreover, the cleanest of mortals, I knew 
that Russian morals are not over particular, and I felt 
some delicacy in driving up to the railway station 
with a female companion ; secondly, there is a pecu¬ 
liar smell, by no means as refreshing as eau de 
Cologne, attached to all women in Russia, save those 


SERVILITY OF THE PEOPLE. 


of tlie very highest class. Whether it proceeds from 
the garments they wear, the climate, the air, or what, 
I cannot explain; suffice, they do smell, and not 
pleasantly, and it would be very difficult to persuade 
any of the good people who live far north to believe 
that a part of an Englishman’s education, from his 
birth upwards, is the use of a material called water 
throughout the year, to refresh, but not to wash; so I 
handed the poor old lady one of my wrappers, as she sat 
on the coach-box, and we went our way rejoicing, I feel¬ 
ing that I had only performed a simple act of charity; 
the poor creature evidently staggered at the proof of 
so much condescension. On arriving at the station, 
having alighted, I proceeded to assist my travelling 
companion, who was benumbed by the cold, from her 
seat, on which, much to my annoyance, she com¬ 
menced kissing my hand; but when, putting her on 
one side, I placed a paper rouble in her hand (value 
about three shillings), she threw herself on the 
ground, and, embracing my knee, began kissing my 
dirty boots. Now I can understand human lips being 
pressed on the silk-clad instep of a charming little 
foot, encased in one of Melnotte’s chef cVoeuvres in 
kid or morocco, but to have one’s greasy travelling 
boots hugged and kissed was rather too much for 
English nerves, and I forthwith made my escape to 
the railway carriage, leaving the good woman to 


224 THE queen’s messenger. 

have her tooth extracted, and, I hope, to wash her 
mouth. Such, however, are the extremes north of 
the Niemen—the most abject servility on the one 
hand, and the grossest brutality on the other. It is 
to be hoped that the emancipation of the serfs, and 
the professed reforms emanating certainly from the 
Emperor, will, as year by year goes by, place human 
nature in the Empire of the Czar in far brighter 
colours. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


IN ST. PETERSBURG—DESCRIPTION OP THE CITY—THE RUSSIAN 

HIGHER CLASSES—RAILWAY TRAVELLING FROM BERLIN TO ST. 

PETERSBURGH — PARES AND REFRESHMENT CHARGES — ST. 

Isaac’s church—the talkoulchi-rinnock, or “ loose 

MARKET” — THE CONFLAGRATION — RUSSIAN BUYING AND 

SELLING. 

I am at St. Petersburg, the City of the Czar, and 
capital of all the Russias. I look from my double- 
cased windows on that which in midsummer-time is 
the broad and rapid stream of the Neva. The sky is 
cloudless, and the sun shines with all seasonable 
warmth and brightness. My room is so warm and 
cosy, that were not the landscape on which I gaze one 
unbroken sheet of glittering snow, I could all but 
fancy the dreary winter past, and that the Neva, 
now the highway and byway for all the traffic and 
communication of the City of the Czar, was only a 
creation of my imagination. 

Open the small window-pane, which serves to give 
fresh air ofttimes to the overheated chamber, and put 

15 


226 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


forth your hand but for a moment, and you will have 
practical proofs and painful evidence that the Christ¬ 
mas season is not long over, or that the budding 
spring-time of your native land is ushered in here 
with all the rigour of winter-time. Spite of self, your 
thoughts and heart's best and purest feelings will 
turn homewards to some happy circle; you will see 
distinctly loved forms and faces in your mind's eye; 
but you will know that you are far, far away from 
softer climes. Look up at that bright blue sky, that 
glorious sun, which shines on snow-covered roofs and 
on ice-bound rivers; you are in Russia, in its far- 
famed capital, seat of so many historical events long 
passed but not forgotten. We will visit the capital 
of the Russian Empire together at all seasons of the 
year, not, understand me, its picture galleries, or its 
churches, or museums, though Russia has just reason 
to be proud of its collection and buildings ; but to take 
a practical view of many objects which may more 
immediately interest the traveller who halts for a 
brief season in this vast and unexplainable city of 
stuccoed palaces and gilded church domes. I have 
already endeavoured to explain, for the benefit of 
those who may chance to follow in my footsteps, how 
severe and uninteresting was a journey to the Russian 
capital in other days; it is far less severe, though 
equally uninteresting, to-day. To reach Berlin is 


ROUTE TO RUSSIA. 


2 2T 


n mere railway roll of two nights and a day, which, 
but for German slowness, might be performed in half 
that time; from there the most rapid route is by the 
way of Frankfort-on-the-Oder, Bromberg, and over 
a magnificent iron bridge crossing the Vistula to 
Kbnigsberg, from thence to the frontier, whence the 
Niemen is passed at Kovno, onwards to Wilna, Duna- 
burgh, Spcoff, Luga, Sarsca Selo, and Petersburg. ’ 
Both Prussian and Russian railways are slow, but sure; 
those of Russia for preference. In winter-time they 
are warmed by stoves and double windows, which, 
on account of the severe frost, it is impossible to see 
through; but this is of little importance, inasmuch 
as there is nothing to see—I may, in truth, assert 
nothing whatever,—save it be a dark pine forest, or 
leagues of snow ; in summer, they are tolerably cool: 
these immense pine forests always look dismal, while 
the snow on the landscape becomes varied with here 
and there some very moderate attempts at cultivation. 

Du reste , a week at Petersburg will repay the dul- 
ness of the journey. How to recommend an escape 
from its monotony, however, I scarcely know. Now 
and then you may be favoured, in the first-class 
carriages, by the presence of some Russian ladies, 
or a Russian family returning from Paris, and you 
may pass an hour or so in wondering what possible 
or impossible sum could have paid for the silks, satins, 

15—2 


228 THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 

t 

and magnificent furs in which they are adorned 
for travelling; and if so attired in railway trains, 
guess what they wear at home ! It is also difficult 
to ascertain why they speak—good or indifferent— 
French, hating the French as they do, instead of 
their own language in their native land, which they 
invariably do. Are they ashamed of their country? 
At times they speak English, and few pronounce 
foreign tongues so well as Russians. 

The distance is performed from Berlin to Peters¬ 
burg in about forty-six or forty-eight hours, whereas 
it might be easily accomplished in about two-thirds 
of that time, and doubtless by-and-by the speed will 
be accomplished. Meanwhile the stoppages are 
innumerable, and the delays enough to drive a nervous 
traveller frantic, without he have the digestion of 
an ostrich and the appetite of a hound returned 
from the hunting-field. In such case he has nothing 

o o 

to complain of, as he has only to do as all Russians 
and Germans do; that is, eat at every station where 
he remains beyond ten minutes, and drink hot weak 
tea in tumblers, or kumel, or any horrid beverage 
provided at others. The outlay for these indulgences 
I have always counted about equal to the railway fare, 
or half what you pay for luggage, as the prices are 
not only exorbitant, but these charges vary at every 
station—sometimes dearer, at others cheaper. Thus 


FROM BERLIN TO ST. PETERSBURG. 


229 


at Kovno you may pay about twenty copecks, a 
sixpence, for a glass of tea, for which at Wilna you 
are charged thirty, and at Kploff it tumbles down to 
ten copecks. If you venture on solidities (and vastly 
solid are some of the pieces cle resistance) why, a rouble, 
or about three shillings, is the least you will have to pay. 
Do not imagine, however, that you see before you a 
rosy ham, a fine cold fowl, a beef-steak pie, or a round 
of beef and salad, such as you generally see at the 
Exeter station, which all but says Come eat me; far 
from it. You have a cutlet made of all the leavings 
of yesterday, or yesterday week, mixed up together, 
and a false bone inserted; or a large piece of im¬ 
possible meat and pickled cucumbers; but doubtless 
all these matters will improve in time. Take it all 
together, a journey by railway to Petersburg is ten 
times more endurable, in every sense of the word, 
than is a journey from New York to Washington, or 
from Berlin to Vienna. 

But I am at Petersburg. Let us walk abroad 
together and see the sights—not the Winter Palace, 
or the Summer Palace, or the Grand JDuke’s Palace, 
or the Grand Duchess’s Palace, or any other .of the 
innumerable big houses called palaces, or the picture 
galleries, or the churches innumerable but by no 
means imposing—save it be that of St. Isaac, with 
its gilded dome and marble without, and its mala- 


230 THE queen's messenger. 

chite and marble within, which cost so much, with its 
Virgin decorated in gold and silver and precious 
stones, which being built, I fancy, on piles, and of 
enormous weight—not the Virgin, but the church— 
may possibly sink into the swampy soil, or by-and-by 
topple over in the position of the tower of Pisa—but 
to see the city in its practical and every-day existence. 
In the first place, it is so large—that is to say, the 
buildings, the squares, and the streets are so extended 
—that during winter, however warmly clad, pedes- 
trianism is out of the question; the crossing of a 
square, even with the wind in your favour, is a journey ; 
and, with the wind in your teeth, if possible, to say 
the least, it is diabolical; whereas, during the heat of 
summer, the crossing of St. Isaac’s Place, Square, or 
Parallelogram—whatever you may call it—without 
you are in training, is simply madness, or a fever. 
Therefore, wishing to see the city—that is, to get 
from point to point in moderate comfort—according 
to the season, you have only to select a drosky on 
wheels, or a sledge. So let us ride. Both from 
association of. ideas and feelings, as also being a great 
lover of what may be termed works of art, whether 
in the shape of a Dresden teacup, a Wedgwood 
vase, or a specimen of wood-carving, I find no por¬ 
tion of the city more interesting to the stranger 
than the Talkoulchi-Binnock, or “ Loose Market.” 


BURNING OF THE “LOOSE MARKET.” 231 

During th^ month of June 1862, the whole of this 
immense market was destroyed by fire. The tremen¬ 
dous conflagration may be readily conceived, when I 
state that it was entirely composed of wooden build¬ 
ings, for the most part filled with combustible matter— 
from valuable furniture and pictures to old rags, tar, 
and pitch. The fire commenced at 4, p.m., and was 
burning on the midday following. To save the goods, 
they were thrown indiscriminately, while burning, 
into the neighbouring streets, in one of which stands 
the Imperial Bank, which, with great difficulty, was 
saved. As it was, the loss occasioned was computed 
at many millions of roubles. But, as is the case with 
many other deplorable events in like cases, the 
calamity is now all but forgotten, and another 
market, if not as yet quite so interesting as regards 
the wealth it contains, but larger in size, safer, and 
more commodious, is already built. During this 
dreadful fire, property of all kinds was ruthlessly cast 
into a canal at hand; books, pictures, china, harness, 
&c., utterly destroyed; and what had been one of the 
richest and busiest places in the city, in a few hours 
was converted into one vast smoking heap of ashes. 

At the time, it was supposed to have been the act 
of an incendiary, in connexion with the Polish insur¬ 
rection ; consequently, the whole city was put under 
military law for six months. When the fire had 


232 THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 

sufficiently cooled, the Emperor ordered aj:ent to be 
given to any one who made application; and in the 
course of an inconceivably short time a new market 
of canvas was raised, and buying &nd selling com¬ 
menced again. The present market, for the most 
part of iron, soon rose, with renewed splendour, on the 
ashes of the past; and now trade is carried on as 
briskly, and apparently as profitably, as heretofore. 

Nothing could be more touching—indeed,pitiable— 
than to watch those who had suffered from the 
flames standing over the ruins of their shops, qnd 
trying to pick from the debris some few articles that 
might be made available. Here and there casks of 
nails, pots, pans, and copper zomavas—or Russian 
tea-urns—were all melted up together; in another 
part, where crockery-merchants had exhibited their 
wares, plates and dishes by the dozen were all firmly 
smelted, as it were, together, so intense was the heat; 
a portion of one dozen I have now in my possession. 
It was, indeed, a perfect wreck—nothing whatever was 
saved; splendid services of Sevres, ormolu clocks, 
valuables, and curiosities—collected for years from 
every mart in Europe and Asia—jewels of every de¬ 
scription—Cashmere shawls and Lyons silks—all one 
heap of ashes and ruin. 

The original market—which was as old as the city 
—was, in fact, a bazaar of great extent, in which was 


THE ORIGINAL MARKET. 233 

exhibited for sale articles from all the world at large, 
and in which every purchaser, from the highest to the 
lowest, could suit himself on reasonable terms; and 
although much fair dealing took place, it is greatly 
to he feared that the speculation in stolen goods, in 
amount was scarcely less. Thus, far more fortunes were 
made than lost. Many an hour has the writer of these 
pages passed, both in the old and the new Talkoulchi 
Rinnock—which differ little, save that in articles 
which may he termed articles of vertu—such as old 
Sevres and Wedgwood, of which much of the finest, 
in years lang syne, found its way to Russia, pictures 
and old silver—the price has greatly increased; both, 
I fancv, from the better knowledge of the seller as 
regards the real value of such goods, and from the in¬ 
creased number of strangers who seek them; and it 
is to be hoped, if scarcely believed, from the greater 
honesty of servants, or their greater fear of detection. 
I have not the slightest doubt that a chance Sevres 
cup, or one bearing the cypher even of Catherine, not 
seldom found its way to a dealer's stall from the 
pocket of a confidential valet. If so he that it is well- 
nigh as fatiguing as a day in the bazaar at Constan¬ 
tinople, most interesting, and ofttimes very profitable 
hours may he passed in the “ Loose Market 5 '—the 
fatigue consisting not so much in the extent of 
ground walked over, as the necessity of bargaining 


234 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


for everything, as no one for a moment thinks of 
offering less than a third or half the amount asked, 
and not seldom obtains what he requires. Having 
boldly asked one who was considered a respectable 
merchant how he could take, which I witnessed his 
having done, fifty per cent, less than he asked, he 
replied —“We are content with a gain of twenty-five 
per cent.; and as we know that all people, particu¬ 
larly ladies, beat us down, we commence by asking- 
eighty per cent., thus leaving a profit of twenty-five. 
When business is slack, we can take something less. 
As regards many things brought here for sale, we buy 
them from individuals who want a few roubles, either 
from poverty or to get drunk with; it is no business 
of ours to inquire who they are, or where they come 
from; suffice that from such purchases we sometimes 
clear a hundred per cent." In addition, as I have 
named, to every article of utility, luxury, and value 
being found in these markets—in what the Americans 
would term the dry-goods line—gastronomy is by no 
means neglected; fruit, vegetables, and eatables of 
all kinds may be purchased. And perhaps, in winter¬ 
time, the most interesting portion is that set apart 
for game and poultry; thousands and tens of thou¬ 
sands of turkeys, fowls, hares, raptchicks, capercailzies, 
snipes, woodcocks, &c., are piled up in frozen heaps, as 
hard as iron, and when carefully thawed, though 


RUSSIAN BUYING AND SELLING. 


235 


killed in August or September, will eat equally well 
the March following. Indeed, it would take far 
more than the time and space permitted to me were 
I to dwell on the peculiarities of this exhibition, 
which every traveller wishing to learn something of 
the habits of Russia ought to visit. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


THE SOCIAL PLEASURES OF ST. PETERSBURG-DINING A LA 

RUSSE—ANECDOTES OF DINING IN RUSSIA—THE ENGLISH 
PARSON AND THE AMBASSADOR—HOTELS AND RESTAURANTS 
—THE ENGLISH FEEDING-HOUSE—GENERAL REMARKS FOR 
THE BENEFIT OF TRAVELLERS VISITING ST. PETERSBURG. 

Having visited the Talkoulchi, or Loose Market, 
commencing with the fine arts, and ending with gas¬ 
tronomy, beyond all question one of the finest of all 
arts, if lie who superintends the kitchen be really one 
of practical talent, let us dwell for a moment on 
the social pleasures of the Russian capital. The get¬ 
ting there, as I have endeavoured to prove, is neither 
interesting nor agreeable. The being there, with a 
courteous behaviour and pleasant tongue, for a week 
or so, is by no means the worst thing in life ; for 
I know of few cities wherein hospitality is so kindly 
and so liberally dispensed. 

Do not, however, imagine, whoever you may chance 
to be, that are, of course, enjoying the perusal of these 


RUSSIAN HOSPITALITY. 


237 


pages, that I allude to Russian hospitalities; certainly 
not. Few, whatever their attractions or pretensions, 
ever get beyond a tea party, which means a zomava 
and cigarette, or may be a parched cucumber and 
caviar. I allude to the hospitality of the subjects of her 
Majesty Queen Victoria, whose interest in the great 
commercial world of money-making has caused them 
for a season to pitch their tents, that is, inhabit houses 
like palaces, at Petersburg, and keep their French 
cooks, alike for the benefit of their own gastronomic 
indulgences and that of their friends; and I hesitate 
not to say that any Englishman who has the title of 
gentleman, and behaves himself as such, will not so¬ 
journ long in the capital and be in want of a dinner. 
And a good dinner, in the full acceptation of the 
word, few men of sense can deny, is a most agreeable 
pastime or solace, between the hours of six p.m. and 
ten. 

Not that I presume to infer that hospitality exists 
solely among the English circles. There are diplo¬ 
mats, good men and true, fi’Qm several nations, who 
well know how to offer a well-arranged repast, are 
good judges of the gastronomic art, ay, and offer it 
liberally for your acceptance; but it is not the good 
fortune of every traveller to find his legs under the 
mahogany of an ambassador or Plenipo, foreign or 
English; and as for the Russians, at least as regards 


238 THE queen's messenger. 

strangers, their invitations are few and far between. 
This may arise from the mere habit of society, or the 
great expense which accrues from all gastronomic 
indulgences, rightly understood, in the City of the 
Czar. 

On rare occasions, however, I have had the good 
luck to find myself comfortably located between two 
crinolines, at a Russian dinner-table. I shall not 
readily forget those agreeable hours. The one was 
at the table of a Russian Prince, the other at that of 
a millionaire; and as I profess to write simple facts, 
I must admit, in the fullest sense of enjoyment, I 
have never before or since—and I have had consider¬ 
able practical knowledge of the art—found myself in 
more agreeable high-bred society, or before a table 
so elegantly—yes, that is the word—so elegantly 
appointed, and where the meats, in so far as Rus¬ 
sia can provide them, were so good, well selected, and 
well cooked. As for the wines, you might have 
imbibed a pipe .without a headache, and have eaten 
to repletion without any inconvenience to your diges¬ 
tion. 

True, that every knock at my bed-room door, for 
the first week after my arrival, excited me by the 
hope of an Imperial invitation; in fact, I hoped to 
see a stately chasseur, as at Stockholm—for I believe 
the etiquette is similar at each Court—commanding 


A RUSSIAN DINNER. 


239 


my inward man to prepare its gastronomic functions 
for a regal spread ; but lie came not, and I subse¬ 
quently heard that no rank under an “ Excellency” was 
permitted to handle the Imperial pepper-box. But I 
was too well satisfied with the said wine, and my 
friend Money-bags, as he was generally termed, to 
feel mvself neglected. Nevertheless, I did dine with 
an “ Englishman ” at Petersburg, and well for society 
if all Emperors were such good fellows, and knew as 
well the precise point of cooling champagne. 

Now our illustrious allies the Prussians, who say 
they thrashed the Danes, in the mode and manner 
we Britons understand a giant licking a baby, amongst 
various other bad and ill-bred habits, have that 
of dining early. Some commence the gorging system 
about midday; others, who consider themselves the 
beau-monde, hold out till about four p.m., which is on 
or about the latest period for sour krout and sausages. 
Their friends across the northern frontier are wiser in 
their generation—they dine late; and I most fully 
agree with one for whom I have a great respect, who 
was wont to say that dining in the middle of the day 
was a gross abuse of the gifts of Providence. “ I eat 
my dinner,” he added, with a benign smile, “ not so 
much for the sake of the dinner itself as for the after- 
dinnerish feeling which follows—a feeling that you 
have nothing to do, and if you had, you'd be shot if 


240 


THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 


you did it.” All the most amiable feelings in the 
human breast are brought out in their full perfection 
by a good dinner; and I own, when I drove home in 
a drosky on those moonlight nights, along the banks 
of the Neva, after the full enjoyment of the Prince’s 
and millionaire’s high-bred hospitality, thinking of 
the consomme a la Bisque, and the admirable salmis 
of double snipes aux truffes, and the delicate young 
raptchicks with bread sauce, to say nothing of the 
salmon cutlets and vol-au-vents, and pheasant au 
naturel, washed down by a bottle of fine full-flavoured, 
iced-to-point champagne, warmed by another of velvet 
Burgundy; far better of the Czar, far better of the 
Prince, far better of the millionaire, and the poor 
serfs, and the climate, confound it, and of Bussia, and 
the Russians in general; and as I went to sleep that 
night, calm as a baby who has cut its teeth, I came 
to the conclusion that Petersburg, for a time, was no 
bad abiding-place. I would here venture to touch on 
the great mistake which little people make in Eng¬ 
land when they vainly attempt to offer you that 
which is generally termed a “ diner a la Russe.” A 
diner a la Russe, indeed ! While I admit that no 
sight is more charming, save that of your opposite 
neighbour, if she be a beautiful woman, than a lovely 
Sevres vase of hot-house flowers; and nothing more 
agreeable, if you are hungry, than a well-dressed 


IMPORTANCE OF A GOOD DINNER. 241 

dish, handed round by a well-dressed and well-drilled 
servant, who treads softly, and proffers the dish 
artistically, so that you may help yourself without 
inconvenience, or the fear of having the contents in 
your lap; I confess that nothing is more absurd 
than a table dressed out with stale bonbons, while 
your host is labouring away at a haunch of mutton, 
as if his life or his dinner depended on his skill in 
carving. A Russian dinner, or, if you will it, a “ diner 
a la Russe,” should only he, and can only be, carried 
out in an establishment where the cook is a “he” 
and an artist, the servants perfect, and the entertainer 
a man of wealth, taste, and refinement. It is neither 
the flowers, nor the bonbons, nor the handing round 
of the dishes, but the amalgamation of all that is 
refined and perfect as regards a gastronomical enter¬ 
tainment, which not one in a thousand ever attains to. 
Diplomacy is not the school of Devots, but it ought 
to be of Gastronomy; and I maintain that Brillat- 
Savarin and Ude were far more deserving of the 
grand cross of the Casserole, or the Legion of Honour, 
or the Bain-marie, or any other grand cross, then 
hundreds so decorated for writing despatches or 
carrying out treaties. No, let people—however hos¬ 
pitable or even kindly disposed, of moderate means 
and pretensions—stick to a nice little English dinner, 
which is excellent in its way, and leave the dinners 

1G 



242 


THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 


a la Russe to those who are justified in at¬ 
tempting them. I once named to a friend that one 
of the dishes I had eaten at an ambassadorial table— 
I believe it was at the Duke D-’s—was a phea¬ 

sant stuffed with a macedoine of woodcock, truffles 
and pistacchio nuts. At first, he doubted the truth of 
my assertion, thought I was in joke; never could I 
have joked on so serious a subject. Yet, will you 
believe it ? I dined subsequently at his table—a little 
party of eight, on boiled mutton, cod, and oyster sauce, 
both good, nay, excellent. Second course, an at¬ 
tempt at the dish I have named. It was dreadful; 
notwithstanding some excellent Burgundy which fol¬ 
lowed, I could not get the taste out of my mouth, or 
the insolence of the “ she ” who had attempted it, or the 
master who had ordered it, for months. I have never 
dined there since, and never shall. Even the long years 

of friendship which existed between us were weakened 

« 

by the attempt at so absurd a vanity. But let me 
return to the Russian capital. As for the society, mer¬ 
chants, &c., of our own countrymen, their hospitality is 
proverbial, generous, and abundant, and, if so be their 
artists do not quite approach in talent to those of the 
notables I have named, forsooth, there is nothin or to 
complain of, save their prodigality, and the necessity 
of strength of mind to resist the tempter, whether 
as regards too great freedom in eating, or still more so 



DINNERS A LA RUSSE. 


243 


as regards drinking at the table of these good Sama¬ 
ritans to wandering fellow-countrymen. I have seen 
delicacies at a season of the year, as regards Russia, 
which I know cost any amount of roubles, and I once 
sat at a joyous hoard where the host apologized for 
not offering oysters, which cost half a rouble, or about 
eighteenpence each, yet gave us cucumbers with 
our salmon, and French beans with the duckling, 
and this in the month of February, with the ther¬ 
mometer anywhere you like below zero ! 

There are some peculiarities as regards Russian 
dinners which may not here be out of place. I first 
beheld the custom, and subsequently, without much 
difficulty, did as others did, at the generous house of 
a rich English merchant, one of the most kind and 
hospitable men I ever met with—alas ! gone from 
amongst us for ever. In Petersburg, local as well as 
at home, he was known to all and respected by all, 
from the Emperor to the serf. Having accepted his 
kind invitation to dinner, and been made known to 
the assembled guests in the saloon, I observed a small 
round table in a window recess, on which I subse¬ 
quently discovered little dishes of pickled oysters and 
slices of smoked salmon, pickled herrings, catsup, 
caviar, olives, with bottles of brandy, Hollands, ku- 
mel, &c., which, previous to the excellent dinner being 
announced, with other guests I was invited to partake. 

16—2 


244 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


“ It is a Russian custom/' said my host, “ not to allay 
but to sharpen the appetite; pray taste the caviar." 
Now I confess to not as yet having acquired the merits 
of that, to the majority, I believe, certainly of Russians, 
gastronomical luxury from the Volga. It is simply 
the preserved roe of the sturgeon; but caviar, or roe. 
or under any other name, I own I have an aversion to 
it. Bad taste this, no doubt; so be it. Some of the 
guests, as I thought at the time, went into it as if there 
were nothing to follow; meanwhile, I did not refuse 
a “ nip," perhaps vulgarly termed, of kamel, and 
since that evening I have never refused it when good, 
at proper hours and seasons, and I strongly recom¬ 
mend it to my readers. In great moderation it is a good 
stomachic, and I by no means found that it interfered 
in the slightest degree with my appetite or the agree¬ 
able indulgence which followed in the discussion of 
some very young and tender capercailzie; the only 
time a man of judgment ventures to eat them. 
Speaking of the capercailzie, or cock of the woods, 
which greatly resembles a large black Norfolk 
turkey, many of which, I fancy, are now bred on the 
estates of Lord Breadalbane, at Taymouth, I may 
remark that its principal food consists of the young 
sprouts of the pine; consequently, soon after its in¬ 
fancy, the flesh becomes salivated, as it were, with the 
juice of the pine, and by most persons is by no means 
considered a gastronomical delicacy. 


DINNER AT THE BRITISH EMBASSY. 


245 


Recurring to these little appetisant assemblies 
around a small table, where pickle oysters and caviar 
prepare, or are supposed to prepare, the inward man 
for more substantial efforts, I recollect one of them 
being the cause of rather an amusing adventure, 
which occurred to an amiable and accomplished 
clergyman on his first arrival at St. Petersburg, 
and I may add, on the first occasion of liis ever 
having quitted his native land. He had been in¬ 
vited to dine at the table of Her Majesty's Repre¬ 
sentative, beneath whose mahogany I also found my 
polished boots on the same occasion. As we walked 
home together that blazing hot night of July along 
the Quai Anglais to our hostelry, he thus broke forth 
with shouts of laughter :— 

“ You know I have only recently arrived in Peters¬ 
burg. I don't acknowledge the Saints, they have 
so many. Well, I have never previously been abroad, 
nor do I know anything of Embassies or Legations. 
My life has been principally passed since leaving Cam¬ 
bridge in county luxuries, till I recently obtained a 
small living in a rural district, where, save at the 
table of the squire, I rarely met with a silver fork, 
and his were badly cleaned. As for diplomacy, or 
the ways of ambassadors, all I knew was that which 
I read in the Times , “ when some members of the 
House complained of their large salaries and want 
of hospitality. For my part, I looked on them 


246 THE queen's messenger. 

in my innocence as little less than kings without 
crowns. 

“ So, on receiving a polite note from his Excellency, 
the very kind and agreeable gentleman who has so 
liberally and courteously entertained us to-night, I 
tied on my neckcloth with much care, and half an 
hour before the appointed time anxiously awaited my 
drosky, in fear of being too late for dinner. On 
arriving at the Embassy, I remarked that it wanted 
exactly five minutes of seven, the hour named. How¬ 
ever, even with my rural ideas, I look on the fact of 
being late for dinner a vulgarity, to say the least of 
it, a discourtesy. Truth, however, compels me to 
admit, that as I walked up the grand staircase, pre¬ 
ceded by a flunkey somewhat better dressed than 
myself—the weather being intensely hot,—I was 
compelled to halt for a moment—in the first place, 
to brush the dew-drops from my forehead with a 
cambric handkerchief; secondly, to consider as to 
how I should address his Excellency, whether, in 
fact, it was necessary to bend the knee and kiss his 
hand; in fact, as to whether I was to approach the 
Ambassador as a Sovereign or a shadow. I had little 
time to make up my mind, for the door was thrown 
open, and ere I could get up a speech or bend my 
knee, a handsome courtly gentleman, a little above 
the middle age, plainly dressed, perhaps too plainly. 


THE AMBASSADOR’S DINNER. 247 

came forward, and warmly shaking me by the hand, 
bid me most welcome to the City of the Czar as to 
his home. 

“ I shall pass over the pleasant and unaffected con¬ 
versation which ensued. Suffice, as my eye ranged 
around the room, I felt convinced it was the sanctum 
of a man of taste and talent; books there were 
in abundance ; old carved cabinets and objets de 
vertu, as such precious relics are termed; but what 
struck me most of all was a small round table in the 
corner of the room, on which were plates and nap¬ 
kins, and glasses and trifles, and various little 
dishes containing, though I am not a linguist, what, 
I believe, the French call entremets, having the ever¬ 
lasting indigestible radishes in and out of season. 
Then, said I to myself, I am to have a tete-a-tete 
dinner with his Excellency, this kind and noble gen¬ 
tleman. Well, be it so; but what on earth shall 
I tell him or talk about? How sick I was on my 
passage from Hull; how dissenters in my parish 
rebel against the church-rates, and yet how much my 
church wants repair ; about the baptism of poor Sally 
Jones’s eleventh baby, without the means of paying 
the clergyman’s fees; while the whole income of my 
vicarage does not exceed one hundred and seventy 
pounds a year. Alas ! all this will not suit Ambassa¬ 
dorial ears. Well, so be it. I will do my best, I 


24S THE queen's messenger. 

was thinking; when lo! the door again opened, and 
a stalwart gentleman, about six feet two, was ushered 
m, greeted as I had been, and introduced; and then 
a smiling attache, in a white tie and a small mous- 
tache; and then came you and others. And thus, 
although I felt relieved that we were not doomed to 
a tete-a-tete , I judged it impossible that we could all 
dine at that small table; and so it turned out, for 
having been courteously requested to taste a little 
caviar, which I rather liked, and had the slightest 
soujigon of the purest old cognac, which did me much 
good, I found it was only a Russian prelude of that 
which soon followed in one of the best and most 
agreeable dinners I ever took part in. And I con¬ 
fess to you, my good friend, if so you will allow me 
to call you, for having so kindly piloted me home, 
that I feel ten times more at my ease than I did a 
few hours since as regards Her Gracious Majesty’s 
Foreign Representatives." 

“I am glad of it," I replied; Uand I hold to the 
assertion that no Embassy or Legation ought to be 
without a first-rate cook, whose art should be con¬ 
tinually put in practice for the benefit of all his 
Excellency’s friends who have the position which 
admits of their being entertained. Moreover, did 
I hold that position—and I should have no objection 
in a pleasant capital not too far from England—I 


HOTELS IN ST. PETERSBURG. 


249 


would enter into no political discussion with my 
foreign colleagues or ministers till they had tested 
the most refined art of my chef, and acknowledged 
that I gave, and gave liberally, the very best wine 
in Europe. So good-night!” Years have passed, 
but the parson and I are still firm friends, and often 
discuss the events of that night. 

Now, ere we quite bid adieu to a subject in which 
it appears gastronomy is interwoven, let me say a 
word or two for the benefit of travellers in reference 
to hotel comforts in the Russian capital—a subject 
which I confess, as I suppose do all wise men, to be one 
of vast importance alike to health and comfort—in fact, 
the great travelling question. Now, there are many 
hotels at Petersburg—grandiose, moderate, and dis¬ 
gustingly bad—all dirty, all vastly—nay, fearfully— 
expensive; there are also many so-called restaurants, 
of course principally kept by Frenchmen. But a 
French restaurant in Paris, or any other town in 
France, where the necessaries of life are good and 
abundant—or in Old England, with its glorious beef, 
fresh butter, eggs, and vegetables at command—in 
fact, materials to work 911—and a French restaurant 
at Petersburg, are as wide apart as a pothouse and 
the “ Star and Garter” at Richmond, though even 
that celebrated and charmingly-situated hostelry for 
billing and cooing, marriage-breakfasts, and railway 


250 THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 

delusions and profusions, requires great gastronomical 
improvements. 

However, as regards restaurants at Petersburg. 
I know of only one decent one, gastronomically speak¬ 
ing, worthy of the name, and that is far beyond the 
means of anyone who merely seeks to appease his 
appetite, or dine moderately. True, I have supped 
there by invitation, and supped with some gusto— 
with the knowledge, however, that I had not to pay 
the bill; but, at the same time, I was sufficiently dis¬ 
gusted at observing two Russian officers, who calmly 
ealled for oysters and a bottle of English porter, and 
having mixed them together in a glass, actually ate 
them with a spoon ! 

On one occasion, I recollect having observed a 
remarkably fat, well-dressed, and sleeky gentleman, 
who was leaving the house. “ Who is that ?” said I 
to the head-waiter. “ I do not know his name, sir,” 
he replied, smiling, “but he is evidently an im¬ 
portant person, inasmuch as he breakfasted here 
yesterday morning on roast pheasant and truffles and 
champagne, at a cost of thirty roubles.” So beware, 
my friends, of roast pheasant and truffles and cham¬ 
pagne, at a Petersburg restaurant; thirty roubles is, 
or was, on or about five pounds sterling. “ Tell the 
gentleman,” said I, “ when next you see him, I shall 
be happy to form his acquaintance.” 


RESTAURANTS AND HOTELS. 


251 


If so be, however, that Russian hotels and Russian 
restaurants are vastly expensive, and have little to 
recommend them, there is a resting-place for well-tried 
and well-conducted travellers, English in particular, in 
the City of the Czar. It is well known as the “ Hotel 
Benson,” Quai Anglais. Let me explain that, more 
properly speaking, it is a most respectable, most 
clean, most comfortable boarding-house, with spacious 
—and, indeed, elegant—rooms, overlooking the blue 
and rapid waters of the Neva; a river in summer, and 
a highway of ice and snow in winter—conducted and 
superintended by two most admirable, well-educated, 
warm-hearted Englishwomen, who are, deservedly, 
highly respected and esteemed by all who know them. 
This is the resting-place, and only resting-place, for 
a wandering Englishman who visits the City of the 
Czar. There he may take up his abode, amid peace 
and plenty, comfort and cleanliness. 

Moreover, I may remark that the society met there 
—a great consideration where people are thrown into 
constant association both at dinner and breakfast—is 
generally, if not to say aristocratic, well-bred and 
select, for not even filthy lucre will induce the Miss 
Bensons to receive a mauvais sujet; and if so be one 
should find entrance, I question whether he would not 
soon receive a hint to pack up his belongings and 
depart in peace. The gastronomy is generally simple. 


252 


THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 


though ample—nay, abundant—served for the most 
part after the mode and manner of our fatherland: 
breakfast from seven till well-nigh eleven in the 
morning—the best of tea, and all the usual additions of 
a good English breakfast—hot lunch at one, dinner 
at six, tea at nine, for all who desire to take their 
meals in the house, which all do desire not else- 
where invited; and this, at least, barring extras, at 
the moderate outlay of four roubles, or about twelve 
shillings a day—matutinal cold bath included, with 
towels ad libitum , which, to an Englishman, is one of 
the necessaries of life, though it would be difficult 
to convince a foreigner that such cool libations are 
intended and used as refreshers, and not washers. 
Liquids, save water, are, of course, extras. Du reste , 
should you chance to fall ill, these somewhat “ fat and 
forty,” though by no means inactive, amiable sisters, 
will tend you as you are attended only in the loved 
home—good Samaritans as they are. So, if you 
chance to visit the capital of Russia, drive to the 
Bensonian locanda, Quai Anglais, and thank your 
luck for bringing you there. 

True, there are many travellers who will say— 
“ When we go abroad, we seek foreign manners and 
foreign gastronomy.” Be it so, if they prefer bad 
cookery, grease, dirt, oil, incivility, and enormous 
charges, to that which I have sketched above. If, in 


THE HOTEL BENSON. 


253 


fact, they desire to rise in the morning with a head¬ 
ache, heartburn, indigestion, and its consequences—a 
ruffled temper, all I can say is, try the best Russian 
hotel in Petersburg, and avoid the Quai Anglais. 
Por my own part, I consider indigestion one of the 
greatest evils in life—souring the temper, and causing 
the most amiable of men to appear as under a cloud; 
indeed, a blue or Cockled pill has often prevented the 
worst evils—many of the miseries of human life. 
Ranish dyspepsia from the list of human vexations, 
and, believe me, the world is not so bad a place to live 
in, after all. 


CHAPTER XY. 


ST. PETERSBURG—PALACES, PICTURE GALLERIES, AND CHURCHES 
—RUSSIAN NOBILITY — GENERAL USE OF FRENCH BY THE 
HIGHER CLASSES—STATE OF INFORMATION—THE PRESS—LOW 
STATE OF PERIODICAL LITERATURE. 

Haying visited the markets, the streets, and the 
vast squares of* Petersburg; accompanied some of 
the charming English girls, who add so much to the 
society of the capital, to the ice-hills, on the skatings 
on the Neva in winter, and glided in an English 
wherry (for be it known there is an English boating 
club and a cricket club at Petersburg) amid the 
islands during the long evenings and nights of 
summer ; having rummaged all the old curiosity-shops, 
of which there are several; in fact, done all and 
enjoyed all that an agreeable traveller is permitted 
to do, you have still the palaces and picture-galleries, 
churches and manufactories. 

It is, however, the duty of a Royal messenger so 
constantly to journey to all the cities of Europe, that 
onde having visited the above localities, sought for by 


PALACES AND PICTURE GALLERIES. 


255 


the freshman, I confess I consider him right to 
enjoy his brief repose amid the more pleasing 
events of life, doubtless, he has “ done ” them all; but 
the notes before me bid me to refer these matters to 
Murray, or any other tolerably correct guide-book. 
I have not seldom looked on the worn bronze toe of 
St. Peter, in the Vatican, but never kissed it; had I 
done so, my faith would have remained as it is; 
1 have seen all, and “ done” all, I hope within 
the range of morality and good breeding. In fact, 
at Rome, I do not quite follow the Romans, nor at 
Madrid the Caballeros, with reference to whom I shall 
have a word to say by-and-by; but I never pass my 
night at a cafe or a club. I am essentially home¬ 
sick and English. Let others enjoy themselves as 
best they may. 

One thing I have always remarked as regards 
Russia and Russian society, by which I mean the 
aristocratic and well-educated society. It would 
meanwhile be difficult to say who are really the aris¬ 
tocrats in Russia, where nobility descends to the 
sixteenth degree. So let us be satisfied with the 
highly-educated class, and there are many, of whom 
“ among themselves,” as with foreigners, either 
English or French, German or Italian, I invariably 
remark, that entirely drop their own language, and 
speak French, which they do with less accent than 


f 56 


THE QUEERS MESSENGER. 

anv other nation. Indeed, in their lamilies, and 
together, whether walking or travelling, French is 
constantly used. 

One of the first things which naturally struck me 
when I first visited Petersburg (I care not to re¬ 
member how many yearn since), was the state of utter 
isolation in which I found myself with respect to 
news. 

"Wherever I went, whoever I met, it was always the 
same eternal topic—that eternal topic, which I had 
always been brought up to consider the monopoly of 
Englishmen. “ Quel detestable climat, monsieur. 
II fait un froid de chien ! nous avons eu vin^t desrres 
de froid dans la nuit \” It was perpetual. At times 
I endeavoured to lead the Muscovite gentlv a wav to 
other subjects, but with no earthly chance of success ; 
he would smile and shuffle about, and jerk out his 
favourite “ Mais comment done;’" and then at the first 
pause on my side, would dexterously exclaim with a 
well-acted shiver—“Mais quel detestable climat, 
mon c-her; adieu, mon cher, il faut done absolument 
que je vous quitte,” and with a fresh shiver and a shake 
of the head, he would rush off to some other acquaint¬ 
ance, to whom he would impart the same interesting 
intelligence which he had imparted to me. 

It was not, however, that the higher classes were 
not well informed of what was going on; it was not 



PERIODICAL LITERATURE. 


257 


that a great number of these weather-wise people 
were not well read in a variety of subjects, some of 
them, indeed, quite on a par with the best specimens 
of Western civilization, yet they scarcely dared express 
an opinion on any subject, for the fear of compromis¬ 
ing themselves in some unknown manner, or travelling 
out of that “ mot-d'ordre,” emanating from higher 
quarters, which was their rule of conduct for the time 
being. 

The press in the present day has, I believe, much 
more liberty, but at the period to which I more par¬ 
ticularly allude, the papers were exceedingly bare of 
news. For instance, the contents of the “ Northern 
Bee,” then one of the shining lights, was somewhat 
as follows :— 

The Imperial oukases, promotions and decorations 
in the military and civil services, police regulations, 
and a few* extracts from the principal foreign papers, 
mostly relating to the weather, or to the celebration 
of the fete day of some member of the Imperial family; 
the number of cholera patients, or a so-called leading 
article at the head of the foreign news, containing re¬ 
flections on and generally abuse of England, Austria, 
and other nations, written in a style below criticism; 
to this succeeded strangely culled extracts from “ Le 
Nord,” “L’lndependance Beige,” and the “Neue 
Preussische Zeitung,” and sometimes from the “ Daily 

17 


258 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


News" and “ Star," an article on the weather, the 
crops, and the shipping, with the addition, possibly, of 
a feuilleton, containing a notice of the theatres, or a 
translation of some French tale. Such was usually 
the contents of the “ Northern Bee," and such was, 
and is, with little improvement, a sketch of the daily 
press in the capital of all the Russias. 


CHAPTER XYI. 


THE LOWER CLASSES OF ST. PETERSBURG — A FETE DAY 
—GENERAL DRUNKENNESS OF THE PEOPLE AT THE GRAND 
CAREME—GENERAL CORRUPTION OF RUSSIAN OFFICIALS— 
ILLUSTRATIONS OF OFFICIAL LIFE AND SITUATION—REMEDY 
FOR THE PLUNDERING OF THE TCHIMONICKS. 

Months —nay, years—have passed away, and yet I 
have never been able to decide what was the grievous 
sin I had committed, or the act of virtue I had 
displayed, which caused me to eat my breakfast 
matutinally at the Bensonian Hotel, if you will it, 
but boarding-house, nevertheless, that it really is, at 
Petersburg, during the Easter week of 18—. At 
all events, I can never regret it; though I by no 
means desire to witness the renewal of the scenes I 
then and there beheld. 

It was the first, and I would pray that it may be 
the last, time in my life that I beheld the whole 
population of a vast city—that is, the lower class—more 
or less in all the various stages of inebriety; the only 
apology I can make for them being, that the (C grand 

17—2 


260 THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 

careme" of seven weeks, or fast, which is most strictly 
kept by the poor moujicks, had just terminated, which 
enabled them to break all bounds, and satisfy their 
appetites in their own peculiar way. 

It was, I must confess, a frightful and disgusting 
sight—curious, no doubt, if not interesting—all the 
same, to one who looked on and desired to learn 
something of the customs, and manners, and doings 
of a people among whom for the time he found him¬ 
self located. 

In the first place, the amount of kissing was 
something marvellous—not to say sacrilegious—all 
over the city during those few days. For instance, 
two moujicks met in the streets, both tipsy. One 
then said to the other, “ Christ is risen," on which 
the other replied, " He is risen and then they 
fell on each other's necks and kissed each other on the 
cheeks three times, shook hands heartily with the most 
benignant of smiles, and then staggered ofi* to re-act 
the same scene perpetually with any one they met. 

This was, indeed, universal, and they were all more 
or less drunk. At every corner of a street you met a 
poor fellow reeling along, or falling or lying half 
senseless on the pavement, whom no one dared to help; 
and in the great Isaac's-square, where a number of 
booths were erected, and where circuses and mario¬ 
nettes, and the most intensely primitive pantomimes, 


EASTER FESTIVAL. 


261 


drew crowds all day, and performance succeeded per¬ 
formance at intervals of hardly ten minutes, as at 
our English fairs, where there are swings and wooden 
horses, and panoramas and shows, and music and 
singing, there was the moujick in his beastly element 
—eating and drinking, shouting and reeling about— 
happy for the time being, and besotted—no work to 
be done—everybody out of doors—the streets crowded 
all day long—the oscillatory process in full develop¬ 
ment. Even the Emperor himself kissed and was 
kissed by three thousand of his subjects ! 

Indeed, no one was quite exempt from the pecu¬ 
liarities of the season. Any one who had done, or 
was in the habit of doing, or ought to have done, or 
thought he had done, or made belief that he had done, 
anything for you, considered that he had a right to 
come and congratulate you, presenting you with a 
hard-boiled egg, coloured outside, and his cheek, for 
the most part not over-clean, to kiss, while he in¬ 
formed you “ Christ had risennevertheless, he ex¬ 
pected to be paid for his little courtesy, and, if you 
were a native, by no means relinquished the orthodox 
trinity of kisses at this festive season. 

Masters kissed their servants, and servants their 
masters. The masters dare not refuse, as, did they 
so, it would alienate their servants’ respect for ever, 
and lead, may be, to dire results among the rough (to 


THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 


9 ft 9 

<v U .V 

use a mild term) population. Even foreigners are 
not exempt; and I myself, being a light-weight, was 
actually “ picked up” by an old grey-headed Russian, 
who rushed at me incontinently and saluted me triply 
before I knew where I was. No soap and water or 
shaving-brush, or fairer kisses, have ever been able to 
efface the memory of that northern salute. 

Among the Imperial family and higher classes, 
beautiful china eggs, sometimes of great price, are 
presented, instead of the stale, hard-boiled coloured 
realities which are sold by tens of thousands. I have 
one of the former that passed through royal hands, 
which adds to the relics in my china-closet. I never 
look at it but I think of what the Russian husnrinir 

oo o 

custom compelled me to endure. 

All these facts were far from beino 1 uninteresting 
to one who sought to learn the habits of the Russian 
people, not, however, unalloyed with great sadness 
for many wretched victims of this dread period of 
revelry, far more dangerous after the long and rigor¬ 
ous fast just terminated. The returns of deaths were 
considerably above the average, and they could hardly 
be counted as cholera deaths. They were—at least 
such I was supposed to believe—sacrifices to religion 
—to the pure orthodox faith”—and only went to 
swell the number of other victims in all ages to 
what was primitively a religious matter, but, as in 


MUCH NEEDED REFORM. 


263 


this instance, has degenerated into an orgie and dis¬ 
grace to a land eager, as Russia confessedly is, to he 
admitted into the society of civilized nations. All I 
can say is, while writing a simple detail of facts, that 
I would not desire, being a sinner—even in my harsh 
opinions—to cast the first stone even at the heads of 
these wretched and uneducated moujicks; let the 
fault rest with those who ought best to he enabled to 
put an end to such mummeries. 

In reference to the internal affairs of Russia in the 
days we live, there is no doubt but that many reforms 
are in process of elaboration and execution; but 
there is one reform which, in my humble opinion, 
ought to take precedence of all others, and that is 
with reference to the individual Tchimonicks, or 
small officials—in all this wide world, I should say, 
the least to be served, and may be the least to be 
trusted. Is it their fault ? Yes, undoubtedly; for 
an honest man is the noblest of God’s works; but 
then, are those honest who employ them ? Alas ! no. 
So he takes what comes into his net, and asks no 
questions. 

I recollect a famous ape—an intellectual ape—an 
ape of marvellous instinct, if you will it, who was 
about to amuse some thousands of gay Parisians in 
the Cirque de l’Imperatrice, who earned his daily food 
honestly by the sweat of his brow, and who, more- 


264 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


over, seemed proud of his performance, as well he 
might, for he was a very ape of apes in his admirable 
horsemanship and agility. True, he was hideous to 
look at, yet he did all that the great equestrian riders 
could do, and did it as if he had a conscience—on my 
life, I believe he had—and, for my part, I would 
rather be that ape than a Russian “ Tchimonick”— 
little officials, who are the curse of Russia. 

Meanwhile, I may as well tell you how they were 
created. They owe their birth to no less a personage 
than Peter the Great, who created a new nobility for 
all who held civil or military rank, in order to cut 
down the power of the old hereditary princes and the 
more influential nobles, who were likely to oppose him 
in his schemes for transforming Russia into a civilized 
State, as well as to reward various foreigners whom he 
had induced to bring their talents and their know¬ 
ledge to aid him in his great work. 

The old nobility descended from Rurick and the 
drougines, was abolished by Peter, so far as actual 
rank was concerned, although it naturally still retained 
a certain prestige due to ancient lineage and large 
property, and all officers were declared to be heredi¬ 
tary or personal nobles according to their rank; and, 
similarly, all civil officials were divided into a corre¬ 
sponding number of ranks, or “ Tchims/' the posses¬ 
sors of the higher being hereditary, and those of most 


RUSSIAN TCHIMONICKS. 


265 


of the lower, personal nobles. Not to enter one of 
the two services was fatal. 

The prince who refused to serve the State lost caste, 
and found himself obliged to yield precedence to every 
adventurer who possessed a u Tchim.” The members 
of the civil service, thus called Tchimonicks, were con¬ 
sequently soon seen all over the whole country. They 
filled every department — they were foreign-office 
clerks, war-office clerks, policemen of every grade, 
county judges, assessors, tax-gatherers, custom-house 
officers, &c. 

Their number was, in fact, and is, legion. In St. 
Petersburg alone there are or were more than ten 
thousand, and their pay is in most cases so miserable 
that they cannot possibly live upon it, and hence a 
wholesale system of bribery and corruption has crept 
in, which has become perfectly universal and acknow¬ 
ledged. 

Every one “takes,” as it is called, which means 
robs, the State or their neighbours, and, strange to 
say, no great shame appears to be attached to that 
which appears to be universal, if not an absolute neces¬ 
sity. Who that has visited Petersburg has not heard 
the story of a police-officer, whose salary was about 
forty roubles a month, or six pounds, and whose horse 
and drosky alone cost him forty-five; and yet he con¬ 
trived to live sumptuously every day, and, moreover. 


266 


THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 


support a wife and family, the wife appearing in a 
rich silk gown, which swept the dirty pavement (as, I 
deplore to say, do those of our fair Englishwomen), 
the children strutting about with peacocks’ feathers 
in their hats. Fancy, ye gentlemen who live at home 
at ease, a Somerset House clerk, on seventy-two pounds 
per annum, keeping a brougham, and washing down 
his cutlet a la Soubise daily at his club, with a pint 
of Lafitte, to say nothing of the sixpenny cigar a 
Russian official smokes all dav long. True, he smokes 
cigarettes. 

The “ Tchimonicks” have been held up to public 
derision by all the best writers in Russia, both in 
prose and verse, in books, and upon the stage; but 
what avails it ? The illustrious “ Gogal” exposed 
their nefarious proceedings in his “ Dead Souls,” and 
in the admirable play of the “ Revizor Griboiedoff,” 
and has proclaimed against them in verse in his “ Gore 
at Burria;” and since the accession of the present 
Emperor, Soltikoff, who had been banished by Nicho¬ 
las to a remote province, has published under the 
nom-de-plume of the “Tchimoniek Stehedvin,” his 
experience of provincial life, in a series of character¬ 
istic sketches, in many of which he denounces in 
fierce though somewhat coarse language the whole¬ 
sale system of extortion practised by the country 
officers upon the peasants, for it is principally on 


OFFICIAL CORRUPTION. 


267 


the poor peasants that these creatures have loved to 
prey. 

I venture to take the following' extracts, which fur¬ 
nish a good example of the means by which the son 
of a village sexton rose from low station and poverty 
to fortune:— 

Little Porphyry was sent in his thirteenth year 
to the district court, not so much to do clerk’s work 
as to fetch brandy from the nearest spirit-shop for the 
officials. He was kicked and cuffed, and hardly earned 
anything at first, but by industry and patience, com¬ 
bined with sharpness and an utter abnegation of con¬ 
science or truth, he raised himself gradually up, first 
to be a small Tcliimonick, and then, step by step, 
until he had made a position for himself, having con¬ 
stantly in view the solid and the substantial. The 
result was as follows : 

Having found himself on the beaten track, he con¬ 
sidered that it would be both foolish, and showing a 
want of calculation, not to profit by such a state of 
things. The result was, that after some ten years 
Petrovitch Porphyry was considered to be worth two 
hundred thousand roubles ! 

The greater the scale of his peculations, the more 
did Petrovitch become “ respected” by his fellow- 
officials and his fellow-citizens. “ Well,” said they 
of him, “ what if he does take piastres ?—at least he 


268 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


does your business in return—of course he expects, 
nay, demands, to be paid for bis trouble." 

Meanwhile, he took it into his head to plunder a 
whole province at once; and what was the conse¬ 
quence? Being no sluggard, he hunted up every nook 
and cranny, turned every magistrate's pocket inside 
out, and yet not a murmur was heard—nobody com¬ 
plained; on the contrary, there was joy that the 
pristine times of Spartan incorruptibility had passed 
away, and that his heart had expanded. The lesser 
Tehimonicks agreed that “ if such a man took money, 
he would best know how to screen them in their little 
matters. It was clear that to give money to such a 
man, was the same as putting it into the savings'- 
bank—nay, even more advantageous, as the percentage 
was higher." 

In another sketch there is a capital story of the 
u Tchimonick" who has lost all his money at cards, and 
is sent off by his superior to a certain district under 
pretence of collecting taxes. He does nothing of the 
sort, but contrives in a very simple manner to get food 
for his children. 

He assembles the people, and addresses them as 
follows :—“ Now, my children, help me ! The Czar, 
our father, wants money. You must pay the taxes." 

“ He would then," it continues, “ take himself off 
to a cottage, and look out of window, the children 


OFFICIAL PLUNDERING. 


209 


standing scratching their heads. Then there would 
he a stir among them ; they would begin to talk all 
at once, and to wave their hands, and thus they would 
remain cooling themselves for a whole hour, while he 
sat by himself in the cottage, chuckling, and ever 
and anon sending out a handmaid to tell them to stop 
talking; that the master was angry ! then their mur¬ 
muring grew louder than before, and they began to 
draw lots. This proved that the affair was proceeding 
as he wished; they had settled to go to the assessor 
(himself), and ask him to be so uncommonly kind as 
to wait till the harvest-money comes in. 

“ Ah, my children, but what are we to say to the 
Czar, our father? You see he wants money. You 
must consider me only as your friend.” 

And all this with kind words; no blows or hair¬ 
pulling, so common in Russia. 

“ But, papa, cannot you wait till the season of the 
Intercession?” and then, of course, down they fall on 
their knees. 

“Wait—why not? That's in your hands; but 
how am I to answer to my chief? Judge for your¬ 
selves ! ” 

The children go back again to their meeting-place 
to discourse and discourse, and then separate to their 
houses, and after two little hours he sees the head 
man bringing him a price on condition of his con- 


270 


THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 


senting to wait—a “ griveuneck” per soul, and as 
there are on or about four thousand souls in the 
district, this amounts to four hundred roubles—about 
sixty pounds, and sometimes more, and so he returns 
with a light heart. 

This is a good specimen of the manner in which 
the moujicks have been treated by the officials. There 
are various stories of a similar nature. There are 
mock enquiries at harvest time—all about nothing— 
when the employd keeps the unfortunate men from 
their fields, under pretence of having an important 
investigation to make. Of course the peasants are 
only too glad to bribe the Tchimonicks to let them 
go, that they may hasten to gather in their ripe crops. 

Nothing, indeed, escapes the grasp of the Tchimo- 
nick. If a peasant’s cow dies in a village on his road 
home, the police immediately institute an inquiry as 
to whether the animal has fallen a victim to some 
infectious disease, and they will keep the owner from 
prosecuting his journey for days, unless he is wise 
enough not to delay offering them the accustomed 
bribe. 

From the two sketches I have here given, an esti¬ 
mate of the deleterious influence of the Tchimonick 
system may be conceived. From the first, we see how 
the low-born and penniless adventurer becomes rich 
and honoured, and a great personage in his province; 


GENERAL DISHONESTY. 


271 


we are made acquainted with the shameful acts and 
dishonest deeds by which he rises, and can infer how 
impossible it is, as matters now stand, or certainly 
did very recently stand, to improve the deficient 
departments of the administration. When all the 
officials live by bribery, the chief of the department 
can hardly be honest, if he will. Like a lawyer, the 
individual man may be honest, and doubtless is honest 
at the commencement of his career, but the nature of 
his duties precludes the possibility of his remaining 
so, clearly proved by the Lord Chancellor, the first of 
lawyers. 

All the lower functionaries naturally abhor an 
honest chief, and look upon a would-be reformer 
simply in the light of a man who wishes to rob them 
of the means of livelihood. They therefore obsti¬ 
nately and pertinaciously oppose every change or 
improvement suggested by the head; and owing to 
the miserable amount of forms, and the immense 
accumulation of business in each office, they are en¬ 
abled to thwart their superior at every turn, until he 
himself, growing tired of his unavailing struggles 
after the good, is obliged to give up his fair dreams 
and let the Tchimonicks have their own way, and 
silently receive the large percentage which they 
willingly offer him as hush-money out of the bribes 
they have collected. 


272 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


From the second sketch we can gather what is 
likely to be the fate of the emancipated serf at the 
hands of the Tchimonicks who are to collect the taxes 
under the new order of things. If the Tchimonicks 
are to be the tax-gatherers, they will bully the pea¬ 
sants and extort money from them under all manner 
of pretences, just as they have hitherto in the case of 
home serfs who have been under their immediate 
jurisdiction, and also in the case of all serfs whose 
proprietors have been negligent or absentees. 

The fact of the peasants being free will make little 
difference; the officers will skin them as heretofore, 
and the moujicks, like the eels, will submit to the 
skinning because they are used to it; and when dis¬ 
putes arise between landowners and the peasants, and 
many will arise, there will be another golden harvest 
for the “ Tchimonicks." 

There is but one remedy. If permanent reforms 
are to be effected as regards Russia, we cannot but 
think that the first measure should be one abolishing 
the lower classes in the civil service, so that every 
petty official will no longer be called a noble, and 
thus arrogate to himself a superior rank and the 
right to domineer over and plunder his supposed 
inferiors in the social scale. It is quite extraordi¬ 
nary what a different creature the Tchimonick is 
from the pure moujick. 


REFORMS NECESSARY. 


273 


Take a moujick, cut off his beard, give him a 
uniform and a small place in a Government office, 
and his whole nature is at once changed. He looks 
down on his former associates; he despises his pea¬ 
sant father; he is a gentleman, and will soon be a 
noble, even while he is learning to rob and take 
bribes and smoke cigarettes, and swagger up and 
down the Neusky like his fellow officials; all this is 
hard for an Englishman to comprehend. In Eng¬ 
land we cannot imagine that a clerk, because he has 
served a certain time in Somerset-house, or the Post- 
office, excellent gentlemen, as doubtless they are who 
do serve there, and vastly different from moujicks, 
should become noble, and forthwith look down with 
supreme contempt on the Barings, the William 
Browns, and other merchant magnates of the day. 

What, then, ought to be done ? Simply the table 
of ranks should be abolished in its lower classes as a 
commencement. 

The four first classes might be for the present 
retained, to be dealt with later as circumstances 
might suggest. 

By abolishing the rest the root of the disease 
would be touched, and in the process of time, it is to 
be hoped, eradicated from the body polite. 

These small Tchimonicks would no longer be able 
to presume upon their position and mushroom 

18 


274 THE queen’s messenger. 

9 

nobility, and the tax-gatherers and other officials 
might he chosen from among the peasants as well 
as from among the former functionaries, who would 
then he hut their equals. And to provide against 
the other evil above mentioned the number of officials 
in each department must he sensibly diminished, and 
the pay of the menials increased. Those who remain 
will probably not all become honest in a trice ; tradi¬ 
tion is very strong, and habit is not easily broken; 
but, at all events, the number of thieves will be 
fewer, and there will be less temptation when the 
salaries are raised. 

If some honest clever men be then found to take 
charge of the departments—and many such do exist 
—they will have a chance of instilling their principles 
into the smaller number of higher-paid clerks under 
them, and thus in time a better system might be per¬ 
manently established. Other reforms can thus be 
attempted with a greater chance of success, and 
Russia will then be in a fair way to take an honest 
place among the civilized nations of Europe, and 
vie with them in progress as in the arts of 
peace. 

Such are simple facts with reference to a grand and 
extensive Empire, picked up during the days of brief 
repose permitted to a Royal messenger. They have 
one merit — they are true, both as regards places. 


HEADS OP DEPARTMENTS. 


275 


people,, and things, passing and passed. Du reste, 
the railway now speeds with uninterrupted and arrow 
flight across the vast leagues which separate the capi¬ 
tal of Queen Victoria from that of the Czar of all 
the Russias. Thousands who hitherto may never have 
dreamt of such a journey, may read to gain some 
knowledge, go, and illustrate the facts. 


18-^2 


CHAPTER XVII. 


FROM BERLIN TO VIENNA—ADVANTAGES AND DISADVANTAGES 
OE A ROYAL MESSENGER^ LIFE—DISCOMFORTS OF A JOURNEY 
ON A GERMAN RAILWAY IN WINTER—ARRIVAL AT THE AUS¬ 
TRIAN CAPITAL—THE HOTELS—MANNERS OF THE VIENNESE— 
THE GAIETY OF THE CITY—MUSIC AND THE OPERA—THE 
LOTTERY SYSTEM—PUBLIC CONVEYANCES IN VIENNA—THE 
MUSEUMS, PALACES, AND PICTURE GALLERIES. 

Having ho special duty which leads onwards from 
Berlin to Petersburg, the royal messenger is not sel¬ 
dom called on to visit Vienna or Warsaw, calling on 
the road at that dullest of all dull cities on the Spree, 
the dulness of which is only exceeded by the hum¬ 
drum ostentation of the citizens. 

During the many years that fortune has declared 
that I should he a wanderer over the highways and 
bye-ways of Europe, the question has not seldom 
been asked me, if I were not tired of so unsettled and 
wandering and fatiguing a life. On such occasions 
my reply has generally been as follows : I do not envy 
the man who has no pursuit, no duties, no labours. 
Even wealth has its constant labours, or ought to have 


AN ACTIVE LIFE. 


277 


them, if properly administered; but to a man whose 
bread must he gained by the sweat of his brow, a 
state of idleness and inactivity is starvation or death 
by the force of ennui. Suppose you command a regi¬ 
ment in India, and have twenty years’ absence from 
your native land, you return home with half a liver 
or none; all your home tastes and habits annihilated ; 
all your early friends dead, in fact, or as well as dead, 
in so far as they care for you. Suppose you command 
a gun-boat, or even a gallant frigate on the coast of 
Africa, you leave possibly your wife and children, if 
you have any, in England for years; you get the 
yellow fever, and die, or you get the fever, and do not 
die; but you return with a face like a guinea, and a 
constitution impaired, with very few guineas in your 
pocket, to attend the admiralty levees and ask for 
another command in China or Japan, with the chance 
of being murdered. Or, perchance, you may have a 
small living in the Lincolnshire Fens, and await for 
preferment till life’s energy is past and you care for 
nothing. Or you may pass your life in walking down 
to Whitehall or Downing-street at noon, to remain till 
7 p.m., reading the Times, copying official documents, 
smoking cigarettes, and passing stale jokes with John, 
Tom, and Harry; to meet the same physical and 
mental duties for the best part of your existence, with 
an occasional month or two of leave, which only 


278 


THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 


makes the return to the desk more hateful; or, may 
be, the grand lot of an attaclieship at a foreign Court 
may fall to your lot. What then—not one out of a 
seore of your first-rate companions—for I admit, not¬ 
withstanding their kid gloves and little pardonable 
vanities, the majority of the corps diplomatique are 
first-rate gentlemen and good fellows—even attain to 
a secretary of legationship, still further to a secretary 
of embassy or minister. Moreover, it so happens 
that when Jones—if Jones’s are admitted into di¬ 
plomacy—has made himself very comfortable at Paris, 
or Turin, or Vienna, or some other pet Embassy or 
Legation, he is all of a sudden ordered off to replace 
Brown at Teheran, whose brother or uncle has j ust 
got into Parliament, and promises his support to 
Government only on this condition. All the world 
knows that such are the lots of the best-born, the 
best-bred, the most intellectual and highly-educated 
sons of England, without they have some broad acres 
of their own, and even then they have, or ought to 
have, their duties and their cares. 

Now, the position of a royal messenger holding his 
own with all these, among whom he, doubtless, has 
brothers and cousins and uncles, and, in some instances, 
possibly a papa, has, doubtless, physically speaking, 
harder duties at times than all of them; but there his 
cares for the most part end. To-day he travels in 


ADVANTAGES AND DISADVANTAGES. 


279 


bright summer weather across the vine-clad plains of 
Italy—to-morrow, being winter time, day and night 
he may have to encounter the snowy plains of Russia. 
To-day he may be tossed about on the Mediterranean 
—to-morrow he may be sauntering down the Rue de 
Rivoli or the Boulevards, as if the Emperor was his 
bosom friend, as he may be, and the city were his 
own. True, he dines to-day with a duchess or an 
Ambassador, and to-morrow fasts on a miserable 
snack at some foreign railway station. But he sees 
the world at home and abroad, enters into the best 
society of every capital in Europe; and, if he have a 
mind, is capable of appreciating life in all its phases, 
and a keen observer of men and manners, he may 
get through his duties, arduous and unpleasant as 
assuredly they are at times, agreeably enough. More¬ 
over, he has always the knowledge that when out¬ 
ward bound it is no expatriation; only an absence for 
a short season, and then to his loved home again. 
More, without his temper and tact are very indiffe¬ 
rent, his knowledge of the world very slight, he may 
make friends by the wayside, and reach friends in 
every corner of Europe. 

If I am not in error, Mr. Sala, or some equally 
talented author, paid the following compliment to 
Royal messengers ; and, while I thank Mr. Sala for his 
courteous language and good opinion, I am vain 


280 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


enough to quote his words. Being at the Hotel 
Bussie of former days in Berlin, he states : 

“ The Hotel Itussie was much frequented by British 
Queen's Messengers, who are, under all circumstances, 
about the pleasantest, shrewdest, and most courteous 
gentlemen you can fall in with, knowing everything 
it concerneth a citizen of the world to know, recount¬ 
ing the best anecdotes, and smoking the best cigars." 

Thank you, Mr. Sala; I shall be happy to offer you 
one the first time we meet. 

> 

Meanwhile, when about to take a journey from 
Berlin to Vienna or Warsaw in midwinter time, I 
confess my regret that the celebrated Florentine pro¬ 
lessor of chemistry, Sagato, of whom the world may 
have heard, and whose bones rest in the Church of 
S. Maria della Croce, in the charming modern capi¬ 
tal of united Italy, does not still exist, or that the 
powers who during his lifetime governed the public 
purse should have been so niggardly as to have refused 
his offer of the secret he possessed of turning human 
flesh into marble. 

In the Hospital of Santa Maria Novella, in the 
days we live, may be seen a human heart and a table 
made of human flesh, which is like polished marble, 
and had the secret of this conversion still been known 
I certainly should have undergone the process, and 
have registered my body with my portmanteau to be 


MISERIES OF A GERMAN RAILWAY. 


281 


packed away with the luggage till I reached my des¬ 
tination, with the full understanding that I should be 
re-converted into a living biped on my arrival; for of 
all the discomforts and fatigues to which royal 
messengers are subjected, I know of none so trying 
as a long journey in wet or cold weather on a German 
railway, at least on the lines to which I more particu¬ 
larly allude. Six-and-twenty hours from Berlin to 
Vienna, by the way of Dresden to Bodenbach, the 
frontier station to Prague, and onwards to the fair 
city, over the plains of Wagram—a distance which 
might easily be performed in about sixteen. Halt¬ 
ing at every little wayside place, where, mar¬ 
vellous to relate—though foreigners always believe 
that the English are the greatest eaters, to say 
nothing of drinkers, in Europe—the German travel¬ 
lers manage to consume an amount of sausage, 
“ butter broth,” and bad beer which is astonishing, 
the distance from one station to another being 
considered. I never take the journey that I do 
not dream of Napoleon I. as I approach Wagram ; for 
of course it is impossible to do otherwise than sleep 
half the way, as do the Germans ; and when I awake I 
look out of the window, expecting to see the French 
legions marching over the plain where hares and par¬ 
tridges now seem to abound, notwithstanding the 
fact that, in season and out of season, a very indiffe- 


282 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


rent roast bird of tliat species is offered at almost 
every station, with one glass of beer, to satisfy the 
wants of tired and hungry human nature. But if so 
be the beer at Vienna is nectar, and a properly-cooked 
u salmi de perdreaux aux truffes'' by no means to be 
despised, the beer en route, as the perdreaux, are of 
very different quality. While at Prague, when 
drinking some vile decoction misnamed coffee in the 
dirtiest of railway buffets, one's thoughts revert to 
numerous young ladies' educational establishments at 
Clifton or Clapham, or elsewhere, where from midday 
to sunset the keys of Broadwood's pianos were suffer¬ 
ing under the martyrdom of the Battle of Prague, at a 
period when crinoline and pork-pie hats were not, nor 
Balfe's operas in vogue. Ennui and fatigue are, how¬ 
ever, greatly lessened by the natural beauties of much 
of the country through which you pass. The neigh¬ 
bourhood of Dresden is charming, and no lovers of 
old china can look on that city even from the window 
of a railway carriage without admiration and longing 
for permission to ransack the museum. Then the 
banks of the flowing Elbe, particularly in the blossom 
season, or when the ripe fruits cluster on the trees, are 
fair and beautiful, and a brief residence at Vienna has 
many sources of gratification, though the Vienna of 
to-day is as unlike the Vienna of other days as is 
ancient Paris to the present capital of France. 


VIENNESE HOTELS. 


283 


Arrived there, when released from the railway—you 
‘‘sortie”—as the French say —“ d’une situation 
penible.” Although tastes differ as regards hotels, as 
in all other matters of life, I suggest Muntz Hotel, 
in the Square, for choice, though some prefer the 
Archduke Charles, or Mizell’s, or the Grand Hotel, 
&c. To do them justice, they are all good. More¬ 
over, you are by no means compelled, as at Berlin, to 
gorge yourself at 3 p.m. at a table d’hote, or pay 
severely for a worse dinner at 7. You may dine 
when and how you like, in a cheerful gilded room, at 
a very reasonable outlay. The chef at these hotels is 
generally an artist, if not precisely of the first order 
of merit, still deserving of laudation. The waiting 
is admirable, and the waiters courteous and active. 
The beer is the best in Europe of its kind—light and 
clear—not excepting even Old England. And if so 
be your finances do not permit of Champagne, Johan- 
nisberg, or Bordeaux, why many of the Hungarian 
wines are very agreeable, and remarkably moderate in 
price. In fact, human nature cannot exist without 
food and liquids ; and while at Vienna, when located 
at an hotel, you only pay for what you do eat, drink, 
and enjoy, at many other capitals in Europe, as I 
have already named, you are called upon to pay for 
what you do not eat, drink, and enjoy. 

Moreover, an Austrian in Vienna, and a Prussian 


284 


THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 


in Berlin, are as wide apart in their modes, manners, 
and customs as possible. I do not wish to be ill- 
natured, but I greatly prefer the former. And when 
the sun shines on the Prado during the evening of 
summer time, or on the lively streets of the city, it 
is a pleasing sight for manhood to behold many a 
fair Hungarian female form, stepping gracefully along 
the pavement, or reclining in her well-built caleche, 
with head erect and flashing eyes; not less so the 
fair aristocrats of Austria—instead of the round, 
melon-faced, demure-looking beauties of central Ger¬ 
many. 

Vienna is, in fact, a gay and cheerful city, where 
much elegance and civilization reign conjointly with 
hospitality, good society, and good breeding. But 
yesterday, as it were, the city may be said to have 
been surrounded with fortifications, while the suburbs 
beyond the glacis were as large, if not larger, than 
the city itself. To-day, these for the most part have 
disappeared, or are fast disappearing, and handsome 
houses and streets are rising like magic. Whether the 
speculation will repay the builders, I am not pre¬ 
pared to assert; at all events, what was only recently 
a gay, but moderate-sized, irregular city, is fast be¬ 
coming a noble one, in the centre of which its beau¬ 
tiful cathedral seems to stand in the pride of place. 
The pleasure-seeker has also an agreeable opera and 


VIENNESE GAIETY. 


285 


good music awaiting the completion of what will be, 
perhaps, the finest opera-house in Europe; while the 
environs of the city have many beauties, and pleasant 
summer retreats, to which the beau monde resort both 
for the benefit of the salutary baths, said to be most 
effective to those who suffer from gout, and to those 
who have indulged gastronomically to the destruction 
of digestion during winter festivities, or are labouring 
under the effects of rheumatism from its severity. 

The Prado, or park, in the immediate vicinity of the 
city, is also a charming resort, alike for the equestrian 
as for those, particularly the female sex, who can 
afford to enjoy the fresh air of heaven, when lounging 
in a well-springed carriage. His Majesty the Emperor 
has some pleasant rural palaces, the grounds of which 
are replete with beauty, and any entrance to which is 
permitted to the public, in addition to innumerable 
dinner cafes, with gardens, where you may dine, and 
dine well, al fresco, for a moderate outlay, with the 
accompaniment of some of the best outdoor music in 
Europe; not your itinerant German brass bands— 
which are by no means to be despised, even in front of 
the Star and Garter, on the terrace of beautiful 
Richmond, in the county called Surrey—but bands 
which keep tune and time, in one garden led by the 
younger Strauss. In fact, Vienna is not a cheap 
locale, and, like all other European cities, is daily 


286 


THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 


becoming more expensive to the traveller in foreign 
parts, still, to tell the truth, it is a pleasant abiding place 
for the season, even to those who neither play at cards 
nor billiards, or who do not feel the necessity of a tempo¬ 
rary intrigue, pour passer le temps, at the expense of a 
neat bonnet or a Cashmere, seek for idle talk, or 
desire to throw away a penny in the public lottery, in 
which precarious amusement I have been not seldom 
told that thousands and tens of thousands of florins 
are won. That may be so; such good or bad luck 
never fell to my share, and I fancy that if such be the 
fact, hundreds of thousands are more frequently lost. 
“ Mon cher,” said a high-bred young Frenchman— 
belonging to the French embassy—who rushed one 
morning into my room, as I sat smoking my short 
pipe, and reading an account of the Derby in 
“ Galignani”—“parbleu, mon cher, only tink”—he 
spoke a little English—“ ce maud it lottery—I drew 
eight, and nine turned up a prize of six thousand 
florins; only tink I was so near.” “ A miss is as good as 
a mile, Count,” I observed, giving a good puff. “ A 
meese,” he replied : “ a meese had nothing to do with 
it; it was a lottery ticket.” “ Exactly,” said I, “let 
it be the mile, then.” “Ah, I understand; I might 
just as well have drawn ninety.” “Precisely,” I 
replied; “here is an illustration; I backed Dundee 
for the Derby, whereas Kettledrum won by a nose. 


VIENNESE LOTTERIES. 


287 


Dundee might have been last for all I cared.” Mean¬ 
while, I fancy ten men and women out of every fifty 
who walk about Vienna, have a lottery ticket in their 
pockets, or at home; simply a little cause for excite¬ 
ment, necessary to the inhabitants of Austrian 
Germany—still more necessary to rouse up those who 
inhabit the towns and cities of Germany proper; but 
not the less an untold mischief as tolerated among the 
people. 

I only recently, in fact, heard of a poor wretch 
being; condemned to death for murdering; his two 
children, as he asserted, to save them from starvation ; 
and yet he confessed having at the time 2J-d. in his 
pocket, which he was unwilling to spend, as he wanted 
it to risk in the lottery. Another disgusting display 
of frivolous superstition has recently caused much 
excitement. 

A murder was attempted on a broker’s wife, since 
which thousands of florins were staked on the follow¬ 
ing numbers : 19, as being the surname of the robber, 
according to the rivals of Cheme; 35, his age; 66, 
the murderer; 10, the number of the house of the 
attempted murder; 28, the birthday of the victim; 
26, her age. The run on these numbers became so 
great that Government was compelled to close them. 
Surely some other means might be found to secure a 
revenue without demoralizing the empire. 


288 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


Then there are museums, and libraries, and palaces, 
and picture galleries at Vienna; but these having 
been visited once or twice, according to taste, become 
no longer novelties to him who finds himself con- 
stantly located in the same place ; and as for the most 
part English travellers carry Murray in their port¬ 
manteaus, or, may be, their pockets, and not seldom 
in their hands, when perambulating foreign cities, I 
must leave to Murray the pleasure of introducing them 
to such agreeable pastimes. 

I cannot bid adieu to the fair city without a word of 
praise as regards the public conveyances. The cabs are 
not only comfortable and clean, but the drivers are equal 
as regards pace to our quickest Hansom drivers, and 
they possess little interior luxuries, such as mirrors, 
lucifer matches, and not seldom a bouquet; on the 
other hand there is no tariff, and you must calmly 
submit to be robbed. 

^ vfr 

The agreeable anticipation before you, when leaving 
a comfortable hotel in Vienna, is as follows :—You are 
tolerably well chilled, may be half-frozen in a railway 
carriage to Pestli, and thence to Temesvar, where your 
troubles commence. You may or may not find some 
sort of decent carriage to post in, with two routes for 
choice—the one by Hermannstadt, the other by that of 
Orsova : by the latter you avoid the Carpathian pass 


VIENNA TO BUCHAREST. 


289 


by Rothenthuer, or the Red Tower, a somewhat inte¬ 
resting object. It is longer ; but the pass is a teaser, 
with four feet of snow on the ground; and, not find¬ 
ing a carriage at Temesvar, you have only to submit 
to the joys of a springless light cart on four wheels, 
filled with straw, the only possible means by which 
your bones are saved from fracture and your limbs 
from dislocation, your brain being jolted into your 
abdomen, or your abdomen into your brain, risks 
not permitted even as imaginary discomforts on such 
journeys, though the practical suffering endured is by 
no means agreeable, and utterly beyond the imagina¬ 
tion in this era of railway travelling. In summer 
time things are possibly a shade more endurable, but 
I confess to the belief that the intense heat of the sun 
in a springless waggon, without the possibility of 
shading yourself from its rays, save the fatigue of 
holding an umbrella over your head, is possibly more 
physically trying than the cold of midwinter, though 
you pass through much fine scenery, which greatly" 
relieves the monotony of travel, and when the wood¬ 
lands are in full freshness of green, the change from 
eternal snow is an immense relief. As, however, veiy 
few, if any, of my readers are likely to undergo the 
miseries of more than two hundred miles under the 
circumstances I have named, with the sole companion¬ 
ship of a wild animal called a postillion, and his long 

19 


290 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


thonged whip, which he is eternally cracking, with 
slight means of refreshing human nature by the 
wayside, I will endeavour to lead them to fairer 
lands, merely remarking that when you arrive at 
Bucharest you are at Bucharest, and Bucharest 
has few charms and much immorality, and few crea¬ 
ture comforts, while its inhabitants have a very hazy 
notion of the rights of property, and small vermin are 
permitted, it would appear, as a necessary evil. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


FROM VIENNA TO WARSAW—PUBLIC PEELING IN POLAND—TIIE 
LATE ATTEMPTED REVOLUTION—THE ATROCITIES OP MOURA- 
VIEFF—DE BERG, THE POLISH VICEROY—THE ROUTE TO 
WARSAW—CROSSING THE POLISH FRONTIER—STRICT MILITARY 
SUPERVISION—STATE OF THE COUNTRY—DESCRIPTION OF 
WARSAW—ITS RUINED AND DEPRESSED CONDITION—THE 
HOTELS—ZAMOYSKI’S PALACE—THE PILLAGE OF THE RUSSIAN 
SOLDIERS. 

Meanwhile let us take a hasty trip from Berlin to 
Warsaw. The Poles are fighting for freedom. Are 
they right ? I did not say they were. Are they 
wrong? Many people say no ; let us go and see what 
we can of the state of affairs. 

The very mention of the self-constituted and un¬ 
known National Government of Poland causes me a 
thrill of sorrow and anger, because I know and feel 
the simple truth that the Polish Government in 
“actual force” is a myth, at the time I write, a 
misery to a great nation, which can only steep the un¬ 
happy country in blood, without one single hope of 
attaining a favourable termination, unless there be 


202 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


foreign aid to relieve them from Russian tyranny and 
oppression. What, in fact, can fifteen thousand men, 
—and I calculate to the very utmost,—untried and 
undisciplined civilians, armed at an expense of twenty- 
five pounds for a musket, do against one hundred and 
fifty thousand well-armed and well-disciplined soldiers, 
aided by a horde of savage Cossacks, who never fight 
in fair field, but who, acting in small numbers, mur¬ 
der, and rob, and burn, and destroy, under the plea of 
seeking for rebels ? 

On the other hand, the revolution—that is to say, 
hatred to Russian rule—is unanimous throughout the 
kingdom of Poland proper. Men and women 
are alike unanimous in their feeling against Russia; 
but they cannot act with any hope of successful results 
without arms, without organization, without money, 
or foreign intervention. What is the consequence? 
The whole country is in sorrow and sadness and tears, 
and St. Petersburg looks on, drinks, dances, and 
rejoices, as did the New Yorkers at New York, though 
thousands may daily perish. 

The very name of Mouravieff causes a thrill to run 
through my heart; not that a tenth of the atrocities 
laid to his charge are true, but if one-tenth be facts, 
it is enough. Though his position as commander in 
a revolted country must be placed to his account,— 
and Poland is by no means a tame lion in her dealings 


MOUKAVIEFF. 


293 


with her enemies,—yet, speaking of this mnch- 
vaunted, and possibly in some measure unjustly abused, 
commander, I have heard from the lips of one who 
knew him well,—an Englishman, a man of honour, 
and himself the most humane of the humane,—that 
in his every-day dealings with the world no more 
amiable or courteous soldier exists; and yet there is a 
graphic story current which tells a different tale, and 
which I believe to be fact. 

u Do you belong to the family of M-s, general,” 

said a companion, “one of whom was hanged as a rebel 
at St. Petersburg during the outbreak of *24 or ’25 ?” 

“No, - ” replied Mouravieff; “ there are two families 
of that name. Les Mouravieffs qui pend et ceux qui en 
etaient pendue. Je suis de la famille qui pend.” 

Since this was written he has been relieved from his 
government, and honours heaped on his head. Lucky 
to be a Russian ! 

Berg, or De Berg, the present acting Viceroy of 
Poland at Warsaw, who succeeded the Grand Duke 
Constantine, considered by far too amiable and con¬ 
ciliating for butcher’s work, is another soft-hearted 
Russian commander, who can pass round the flowing 
goblet, and press the hand with courtesy and apparent 
kindness, while w r ith the same hand he signs illegal 
death-warrants which send his fellow-men out of the 
world at twenty-four hours’ notice, without judge or 



294 THE QUEEN'S messenger. 

jury, unjudged, nncondemned, save by military law, 
which, as regards Poland, means the law and rule of 
one man, who sits down to dinner with a good 
appetite, while his brutal soldiery are shooting their 
fellow-men by dozens. Such is Russian patriotism 
and meekness. Sad, but scarcely to be wondered at, 
that it should call forth reprisals from the blade of the 
assassin. 

And now let me pack up my portmanteau and my 
pipe, and be off; let those who will, follow in my foot¬ 
steps. Meanwhile I do not write for those who may 
possibly have crossed from Dover to Calais a hundred 
times, and who know the names of all the steamers 
and all the captains who command them, but for 
those who know nothing of Poland or Warsaw, save 
that it is a city, and was the ancient capital, and who 
may perchance wish to know how to get there, though 
possibly they might not be as anxious as I was.to 
encounter Mouravieff in the lion's den, at the moment 
he is comfortably located in the ancient Palace of 
Kings, taking his ease at his, perhaps temporary, 
abode; for to-morrow, if it so pleases the powers of 
St. Petersburg, he may have to pack up and be off at 
a moment's notice, as his betters had. 

Why the amiable Grand Duchess wept bitterly at 
the railway-station when leaving Warsaw for pleasant 
and peaceful lands, I can scarcely say. But her Grand 


THE POLISH FRONTIER. 


295 


Duke having acted the part of a lamb instead of a 
tiger, he was banished, and Berg stepped into his 
shoes—which pinch, I fancy, for all that he smokes 
his cigarette calmly, while employing twelve men 
with loaded rifles to send those out of this world he 
feels satisfied he shall never meet in another. 

To get to Warsaw, I suggest the line from Berlin 
via Frankfort-on-the-Oder, Bromberg, to Alexandowa 
on the Polish frontier. Arrived there, every feeling of 
the heart, as every object to the eye, forcibly proclaimed 
the unhappy state of affairs. Moreover, it is strange, 
though true, that a railway rush of one league from 
the Prussian frontier, and all nature seems changed, 
as are the costume and appearance of those who 
labour for the bread of life in most positions of society. 

I do not say that I experienced, during an hour 
and a half’s delay at this frontier station, aught but 
courtesy and attention; this pleasant fact, however, 
arose, I fancy, more from the position I held and the 
cause of my being there, than from the mere fact of my 
being an Englishman, who endeavoured, as far as 
possible, to keep his eyes and ears open, and his mouth 
shut. For, as regards the other passengers, par¬ 
ticularly those who belonged to the unhappy country, 
to which they were returning or from which they 
were flying with sad hearts and bitter feelings, the 
door of every carriage was fast locked till every pass- 


296 THE queen's messenger. 

port was minutely examined, and inspected, and 
stamped, and returned; this duty being performed 
by a Russian officer in full uniform, accompanied by 
a host of soldiers and gendarmes; while all along the 
platform sentries paced with loaded muskets and 
bayonets fixed. Ay, bayonets long enough to run 
through an elephant. 

The passports examined, every article of luggage was 
opened and pulled about remorselessly, save my own ; 
papers, letters, and books being inspected, as if they 
contained the most rebellious and seditious senti¬ 
ments, instead, for the most part, of being mere 
loving letters from wives to their husbands, or 
children to their absent parents. But this was not 
all. A squadron of females was in attendance in the 
waiting-room to examine the persons of the fairer 
sex; and even shoes and stockings do not escape from 
prying eyes and nimble fingers, as if they contained 
powder and shot or revolvers. 

This is very sad in the nineteenth century. But, 
alas, how far more sad is all that is witnessed at War¬ 
saw, to which city the railway-train is guarded by 
three-score armed Russian soldiers ! At Wlodareek, 
a station not far distant from the frontier, a lanre 

' O 

military force is assembled, in fact, a division of the 
Russian army, under the command of Prince Wittgen¬ 
stein, a gallant officer, who greatly distinguished 


PRINCE WITTGENSTEIN. 


297 


himself in the Crimean war, and a high-bred gentle- 
man ; kind and courteous, who would distinguish 
himself in any society in Europe far better than in 
the painful position he holds, and which is evidently 
most distasteful to him. 

I had the pleasure of some conversation with him, 
as with his aide-de-camp, Captain Swearts, who 
accompanied me to Warsaw; and it was clear to me 
that his character was totally dissimilar to that of 
MouraviefF or De Berg. Handsome in person, cour¬ 
teous and kind in manner, speaking English like an 
Englishman and French as a Frenchman, he endea¬ 
voured, though evidently disgusted with all around 
and about him, to talk cheerfully of the present 
miserable state of Poland. “ For my part,” he said, 
“ I have determined to have no hanging or shooting 
in jny command. If the rogues get into my hands, I 
bleed them—but through the pocket, not through 
the skin; in fact, if I find rebels in a village, I bleed 
the whole village to the extent of some hundreds of 
roubles. I find the plan effective; hang a man, and 
all his friends place themselves in a position to be 
hanged. The roubles are useful; and they pay freely, 
not being able to help it.” 

“ By-the-bye,” he continued, “ I have heard that 
the rebels are now armed with poisoned knives. The 
first one I catch with a knife, I shall order the point 


298 THE queen's messenger. 

to be inserted a quarter of an inch into some part of 
bis person ; if it is poisoned, be will die, and serve 
him right. If not, the trifling wound will do him no 
barm, and prove that the report is false." He ended 
a lively and pleasant conversation in the midst of a 
host of dirty-looking, brown-coated soldiers,—many 
of whom bad fought nobly in the Crimean war, and 
who are now doing a duty utterly inconsistent with 
that of brave soldiers or Christian men—by wishing a 
speedy and pleasant termination to our journey, 
laughingly remarking that he had no ice to ice his 
champagne, and requesting Captain Swearts to endea¬ 
vour to get a supply at Warsaw. But it would appear 
that the civil war has even melted the ice there. 

The whole country, from the Prussian frontier to 
Warsaw, though tolerably cultivated, is most unin¬ 
teresting ; none of the home beauties, green fields, 
and glorious woodlands of Old England, the romance 
of France, or the beauties of Italy and Switzerland; 
flat and sandy, with occasional pine-forests, scarcely 
a house of any size or respectability is seen by the 
wayside; and the stations, villages, and small towns 
are all alike, and call for no remark. Having left 
Berlin at 11.45 p.m., Warsaw is reached at 5.30 p.m. 
the following day. Arrived, everything around and 
about you speaks forcibly and painfully of the present. 
Soldiers innumerable, and sadness inconceivable 


WARSAW. 


299 


marked on the countenances of all; the railway-station 
looking* more like the bivouac of a besieging army, 
than a source from which civilization and wealth 
ought to go forth and arrive for the benefit of man¬ 
kind. 

To those of my countrymen who may never have 
ventured so far as Warsaw, I may briefly mention 
that this ancient capital of Poland is not without 
interest or beauty. Situated on a somewhat com¬ 
manding position on the left bank of the Vistula, 
which flows calmly on towards Dantzic, heedless of 
man's troubles, through the country which it passes, 
the city looks, as it were, across the waters, to its 
extensive suburbs of Praga, and over the flat, though 
in a measure wood-clad, plains on the opposite bank; 
while the ancient palace of the Polish kings, built by 
Sigismund, the most interesting among the many 
public buildings in Warsaw, with its extensive terrace- 
gardens, commands the whole sweep of the fine river, 
with the country and the Laudsberg beyond. 

These gardens, once arraved in all the beauties of 
floral nature, as of art and care, at the hour in which 
I write are crushed and destroyed by the bivouacs of 
a horde of savage-looking soldiery and brutal Cossacks. 
This palace, once the abode of the royal and the brave, 
where kings reigned and chivalry offered cour¬ 
teous splendours, is now the lodging of Count de 


300 


THE QUEERS MESSENGER. 


Berg, Acting 1 Viceroy of Poland. From thence lie 
issues his despotic orders; while in the gardens on 
which he daily looks a thousand bristling bayonets 
and Cossack lances await, ready to obey his craven, 
will—on men, women, or children, the innocent or 
the guilty. 

The city itself, through which I was permitted un¬ 
molested to drive and walk on several occasions, is as 
a terror-stricken city, whose inhabitants scarcely dare 
move out of their houses, and live in continual appre¬ 
hension lest some rash individual act should involve 
hundreds in ruin. Of a night none go abroad who 
ean help it; while those whom one meets by day, 
particularly the women, are all clad in the deepest 
mourning, and bear on their countenances the impres¬ 
sion of some great calamity, past or imminent; one 
ean, in fact, imagine a similar look of terror and 
dejection worn by the inhabitants of a place where 
plague is raging. Like that terrible malady, the 
affliction that now rests upon Warsaw is one against 
which no prudence can guard; and the system of 
wholesale punishment for the offences of individuals 
is carried out with barbarous and indiscriminating 
rigour. 

Some of the streets of Warsaw are wide and well 
appointed, but miserably paved; there are handsome 
shops, and at least two very superior hotels. That 


FRIGHTFUL SCENE. 


301 


called the Hdtel de V Europe, situated in the Place de 
Saxe, near to extensive and pleasant gardens of that 
name, is, perhaps, as fine an hotel building as any in 
Europe ; in which, during my brief stay in Warsaw, 
a very frightful scene took place, an account of which 
I shall here give precisely as I have reason to believe 
it occurred, as an example of the system I have 
named. 

A person of mysterious and suspicious character, 
said to be a spy—under surveillance of the police— 
was lodging there. By some he was declared to be a 
medical man, who had come to Warsaw to attend on 
General de Berg, and having been offered a large sum 
by the National Government to administer poison to 
the general, which he refused, he became a marked 
man; this, however, was only one of the hundred 
falsehoods daily afloat in the city of Warsaw, for 
Polish and Russian imaginations are very fertile. Be 
it as it may, an assassin made his way into the hotel, 
and stabbed him in the back. They struggled out 
together upon the stairs : death very soon released 
the victim, and the murderer sprang through a glass 
door, cutting himself severely in the act, and made 
his escape. He was tracked for some distance by the 
blood-drops that fell from him, but finally escaped. 

The hotel, which is a very large and handsome one, 
making up two or three hundred beds, was at once 


302 THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 

shut up, all persons lodging there driven into the 
streets, and the building forthwith occupied by mili¬ 
tary. In all the proceedings of the Russian authori¬ 
ties, a degree of reckless brutality is observable, worthy 
of the pseudo-civilization only to be found on the sur¬ 
face, and characteristic of the people, of whom it was 
truly said that a little scratching is only needed to 
reveal the Tartar. The moment the affair became 
known, many Russian officers rushed to the scene, like 
birds of prey, ready to assist in the plunder, doubtless 
hoping and believing the spoils would be as precious 
as were those with which they enriched themselves 
from the Zamoyski palace. Happily, however, little, 
if any, of the property of the hotel was destroyed. 
The fact of the innocent host or proprietor, who was 
absent, being ruined because a murder was committed 
in his house, is a trifling matter, which neither 
interests the “ amiable" Alexander, who was enjoying 
himself in the Crimea, nor spoilt the supper of the 
soft-hearted De Berg in his palace-lodgings. 

It so happened that I found myself at Warsaw a 
few days subsequent to what is now termed the 
sacking of Count Zamoyski's palace, and on the very 
day that a workman in the factory of Messrs. Evans 
and Co.—Englishmen, and men of the very highest 
character—was shot in the yard of the factory in the 
unwilling presence of six hundred workmen. The 


ZAMOYSKI’S PALACE. 


303 


former was an act that has never been surpassed in 
barbarity during any civil war in ancient or modern 
times ; which, in any other country but Russia, ought 
to have disgraced and deprived General de Berg of 
rank and station—and has disgraced and dishonoured 
the Russian army—as the throwing of the shell did 
for the time deprive him of his senses, if not of his 
life; as will his acts deprive him, it is to be hoped, of 
the countenance of civilized Europe. And the latter 
was an act of illegal murder,—as bad as that com¬ 
mitted by the hand of the assassin at the hotel,— 
which all men must loathe, whether committed by 
Pole or Russian. 

The story of the destruction and pillage of Count 
Zamoyski's palace has been told in different ways and 
in various public papers ; as yet, however, it has never 
been correctly told. It occurred simply as follows :— 
General de Berg was driving past what is generally 
termed the Zamoyski palace, when from a window 
was thrown one or more combustible missiles, a por¬ 
tion of which, it appears, rent a hole in the general's 
great-coat, and slightly wounded two among the 
Cossacks who formed his escort; on which the gallant 
general—whose position in the very heart of what 
may be termed a revolting city, I admit, was not a 
pleasant one—utterly lost his head—at least civilized 
Europe would fain believe sc—and, instead of de- 


304 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


spatehing a Cossack or an aide-de-camp for troops, 
surrounding the house, and endeavouring to find the 
guilty person or persons, gave up the whole palace to 
pillage, and, as far as he cared, every individual the 
palace contained to destruction. 

Now it so occurs that the fine building in Warsaw 
denominated the Zamoyski palace is, in fact, two 
houses or two palaces. The one is generally inhabited by 
the Count himself, who at the period of its disgraceful 
pillage was absent in Paris ; the other was let out in 
various apartments to persons of the highest respecta¬ 
bility. Now, from a window of this latter portion of 
the palace the shot was thrown; and Count Zamoyski 
is about the last subject of the Emperor of all the 
Bussias who would lend himself to the work of an 
assassin. Every article, however, in both houses was 
pillaged and destroyed, to the value of a hundred 
thousand pounds ; articles never to be repurchased— 
books, papers, jewels, invaluable to the Count's family; 
and De Berg—who bears the name of soldier, ay, 
and commander—stood by, and permitted his officers 
to act a far worse part than is being enacted by Italian 
brigands. 

With regard to the other atrocity, committed on the 
premises of Messrs. Evans, who, as I have said, are 
highly respectable gentlemen, owners of a very ex¬ 
tensive iron manufactory, and employing at least six 


MILITARY EXECUTION. 


305 


hundred hands, it is very briefly told. One of their 
men, returning home after his day’s labour, was 
stopped in the street by a policeman. He might pos¬ 
sibly have been slightly intoxicated; he might have 
been a suspected character; suffice that in his posses¬ 
sion were found two or three roughly-cast shells, of 
very small dimensions. They were not loaded, hut 
were said to he of the Orsini class of shell, made to 
be charged with fulminating powder, and thrown by 
hand. This was enough to convict not only the un¬ 
lucky bearer of the missiles, but the whole establish¬ 
ment in which he worked. After a farce of a trial, 
without having evidence or means of defence, he was 
condemned to be shot; and he was shot in the yard 
of the factory, in the presence, as I have said, of his 
fellow-workmen, who, as well as a large force of Russian 
soldiery, were compelled to attend. It was further 
ordered that the firm should pay a fine of 15,000 
roubles. In vain was it explained to the Russian au¬ 
thorities that no blame could possibly attach to the 
persons whom it was sought thus to punish; that a 
single workman, bent upon casting shells as those 
produced, which were of a very rough and imperfect 
character, might find opportunities of doing it even 
without its being necessarily known to the very men 
who worked nearest to him; and also that the fabri¬ 
cation of projectiles was no part of the business 

20 


306 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


there carried on. The fine has since been remitted ; 
but henceforth manufacturers are given to understand 
that they will be held answerable for the acts of their 
workmen. It must certainly be agreeable, after long 

years of honourable labour for the benefit ol Russia 

%/ 

and the Russians, to find oneself in this hour, when 
the world is supposed to be becoming civilized, at work 
for one’s fellow-men with a rope round your neck, or 
a file of armed grenadiers at all times ready to shoot 
you through the heart. These Russian commanders 
are decidedly no acquisition to the society of Warsaw 
or the world. 

The environs on the southern side of Warsaw are 
not without natural beauty, though the country for 

the most part is flat and sandy. Perhaps the most 

% 

agreeable drive is that to the Larienski Palace, the 
ancient abode of the Sobieskis, approached from the 
city by a pleasant avenue of shady trees a mile in 
length, which in summer time forms the principal 
fashionable drive and promenade. The palace itself, 
though small, has peculiar charms, built as it were 
over a portion of a small lake, and surrounded by 
luxuriant trees and park-land, the more pleasant from 
its contrast to the flat and sandy plains of the country 
near at hand. Here, as elsewhere, neglect is begin¬ 
ning to tell on that which once was a peaceful and 
happy resort to those who left for a time the noisy 


ENVIRONS OF WARSAW. 


307 


labours and excitement of the city; and as Russian 
soldiers at every turn, and all around and about the 
palace, stop you here and ask your business there,— 
as if every tree was a rebel and every branch a loaded 
rifle,—all the pleasant feelings emanating from the 
surrounding beauty are at once annihilated. 

The Villa Marionet, at Willanom, on the northern 
side of the city, the once-cherished residence of 
Stanislas Augustus, is another pleasant palace near 
the banks of the Vistula, larger than that of Lari- 
enski. Here in peaceful times all the beau-monde were 
wont to assemble in early spring-time; in fact, it was 
the Champs Elysees. 

At Warsaw all this, however, for the time being, is 
at an end. If so be the public were to meet on these 
pleasant grounds, it would be a meeting of those in 
mourning for the dead, instead of a gay and brilliant 
association in the full enjoyment of the present, and 
hoping for the future. In Warsaw, the light of other 
days is faded. Formerly the city was not without the 
charms of nature and the charms of society, rendering 
it, in its class, one of the most intellectual and pleasant 
resorts in Europe. Alas, that there should remain only 
memories of the past, and bitter feelings as regards 
the present ! It is a sad page to write. Here as I 
sit, on this bright, calm morning in October, looking 
on the very avenue I have named, leading to pleasant 

20—2 


308 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


scenes,—in the villa of a kind friend, beyond the 
limits of the city, yet within the limits of military 
command,—not a sound, save that of an occasional 
carriage-wheel breaking on my ear; I know and feel, 
and sorrow in the knowledge, that within cannon- 
range there are hundreds, nay thousands, of hearts 
beating with sad and contending emotions, and I 
would wish, with an ardent wish, my pen were capable 
to place more clearly on my page the effects of all 
those contending feelings, past and present. 

Such are the pleasant phases in the life of a Royal 
Messenger when abroad. The unpleasant ones are, 
that he is, simply, when on duty, “ Figaro qua, 
Figaro la, Figaro su, Figaro giu”—and so, having 
arrived in midwinter, during the most inclement 
weather, at Vienna, he may, perchance, have scarcely 
time to imbibe half a yard of beer, for that nectar is 
served in glasses in accordance with the thirst or 
length of throat of the imbiber, commencing with six 
inches up to twelve in height, ere he has, or at least 
had to start for Bucharest, which journey, as I shall 
endeavour briefly to describe, was, and doubtless still 
is at such periods, one certainly not of pleasure, and 
one only required when political changes cause her 
Majesty to be there represented. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


A VISIT TO SPAIN—THE ROAD BY WAY OF BORDEAUX AND THE 
PYRENEES—THE RAILWAY STATIONS AND TOWNS ON THE 
ROUTE. 

Are any of my readers inclined to visit Spain, at least 
its northern provinces and its capital of Madrid ? 
True the season is not inviting; snow lies thick on 
the earth, and I am told the Thames is frozen over 
below London Bridge. What of that? I have gone 
there at all seasons of the year, and I want a pleasant 
companion; so pack up your portmanteau, and come. 
I have crossed the arid plains of Castile when the dust 
flew like storms of sand, filling alike mouth and 
nostril, and the heat was intense; I have travelled 
there when the north-easter whistled from the 
Sierras sharp as razor-blades, but as yet I have not 
quite decided whether it is better to be frozen alive, 
baked, or suffocated, I know there is a possibility of 
keeping one’s self tolerably warm when travelling, but 
I know of none to keep one’s self cool during the 
summer heats of Espagna. Therefore, let us start; 


310 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


may be we shall get some skating in the gardens of 
the Retiro ; at all events, it warms human nature to 
look on Velasquez and Rubens' pictures in the museum, 
as it is called, which simply means a gallery of some 
of the finest productions of ancient art. If you 
prefer to sit over a blazing English fire, awaiting a 
thaw, that a hunting you may go, but have still a 
hankering for a journey in Spain, I suggest a 
re-perusal of Don Quixote and Gil Bias. And as 
a direct line of railway now glides over the surface 
of the earth, from the capital of Napoleon, Emperor 
of the French, to that of Isabella, the most Catholic 
and the fattest of Queens, you will learn correctly 
what Spain was and for the most part what Spain 
still is, with its Passives and certificates, unpenned and 
in abeyance. Time and tide wait for no man's 
pleasure; duty calls me and I must be off, to linger a 
week or ten days in the somewhat garlicky society of 
the cigarillo-smoking caballero, and take a turn on the 
Prado, amid an inconceivable number of homeless 
idlers, who, I believe I am correct in saying, cast about 
their flashing eyes beneath the graceful mantilla, as 
novelists have it, at each passing stranger; watching 
at the same time numberless capering Caballeros, who 
appear to ride about on their bits instead of their 
horses; not forgetting the vast number of turns out— 
which mean, carriages of all sorts, and shapes, and 


SOCIETY IN MADRID. 


311 


sizes, and their occupants, some of which—the 
carriages, not their fair burdens—would not disgrace 
our noble park or the Bois de Boulogne, while others 
would more befit a prize-fight. Nevertheless, the 
jumble is interesting, nay charming, but who pays 
for many of the vehicles, I never learnt, certainly, at 
least, not all those who use them, considering the price 
of horses and carriages at Madrid, to say nothing 
of the top-booted drivers, and the display of queer 
top-boots which certainly must immortalize the 
maker. But I am speaking of the fashionable pur¬ 
suits and pleasures of the Spanish capital ere we 
have crossed the frontier, so let me halt for a mo¬ 
ment, or try back, as sportsmen say, and at once 
remark that as yet I never had the good fortune 
to meet with the man of sufficient tact, genius, 
or, what is more valuable and rare, common 
sense, capable of clearly demonstrating the universal 
observation of Cosas d^Espagna, or ever meet with 
two men capable of giving a true and correct account 
of a country and a people said to have a liberal con¬ 
stitution, yet who are living under a constitutional 
myth, and who I very much fear, will ere long make 
their chiefs dance the bolero again. I do not mean to 
say that a writer cannot give a correct account of a 
bullfight, or the Alhambra, or Seville and its picture 
galleries, or a puchero, but a bull-fight is a bull-fight. 


‘312 THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 

more or less, to-day as it was yesterday, and possibly 
will be to-morrow. The Alhambra is the Alhambra, 
of which no one speaks more correctly than Ford, and 
a pucliero is an excellent dish in its way, according* to 
mode and manner of concoction—and has merit in 
accordance with the condiments used and the artist 
who concocts it. Still it is a puchero. 

But carracco—a common Spanish expression, which, 
I take it, means bosh. Spanish ways, Spanish people, 
though I like them, and the Spanish constitution, 
is a “ Cosa d'Espagna," which I fancy will never be 
clearly understood till every man in Spain has tried 
his hand at being a Prime Minister, and failed. 
Meanwhile let us journey southwards. As regards 
Madrid, and indeed every capital in Europe, the 
getting there in the days we live and learn is more or 
less a matter of money than time. The faster we 
travel the faster we pay. Indeed, according to the 
old adage, money makes the mare to go, though once 
posting was a luxury only attainable by the peer, 
whereas rail travelling is now resorted to by all. Never¬ 
theless in those days one dined for lialf-a-crown, 
whereas on most Spanish lines one starves at the rate 
of five shillings, if not given to sausages, garlic, and 
olive oil. Ere the line of railway which now connects 
Paris and Madrid was opened beyond Bordeaux, it 
was not every man who could say that he had blown 



TRAVELLING ACROSS THE PYRENEES. 31S 


his nose in the Puerta del Sol, and criticised the stable 
which contains some hundred of the royal mules. 
Time, however, creates wonders, and ere long many a 
wandering Englishman will have lunched at Lardis, 
watched the setting sun sink over the Guadarama 
from the Queen’s palace, and seen a real bull-fight. 
Well do I recollect the time when, arrived at the 
pleasant little town of Bayonne—the malle-poste, then 
by no means an inconvenient mode of travelling, as it 
carried only two passengers and the conducteur, 
generally a very agreeable addition to the company, if 
perchance he smelt not too strong of garlic, 
rattled along at a very good pace, horsed or muled 
as might be—that a very indifferent carriage 
with posters was all you could otherwise hope 
for, diligences and despatches being well apart. If 
the period of your journey was summer, I know of 
few more beautiful and interesting roads than that 
through the valley of the Bastan to Pampeluna. 
The scenery is one continuation of wooded mountain, 
a chain of the Pyrenees, and rushing mountain 
streams, after quitting the Bidassoa, which accom¬ 
panies you for some distance. Moreover, your imagi¬ 
nation, and recollections of the past, are constantly 
alive. Here was the spot where the Iron Duke rested 
for an hour, when, almost alone, he rode to the relief 
of Pampeluna; there, a mountain pass through which 


314 


THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 


the English legions had trodden on their march to 
the French frontier—Hill and Byng, and recollections 
of the heights of Maida, and a host of noble soldiers, 
seemed to stand on the crest of each mountain— 
memories of war and war’s alarm sounded on the 
wind, as you rallied on through the lovely valleys and 
over the steep mountain sides, where agriculture now 
strives, and the calm night looks down, or bright 
morning breaks only on peace and plenty. Indeed, I 
know of few more thoroughly charming roads in its 
peculiar attributes than that from Irun to Pampeluna, 
always, be it recollected, in summer time, though, 
forsooth, it is grand when mountain and valley are 
covered with snow—not quite so warm or smiling, 
possibly, or soothing; but a cold nature has its 
influences and interests. Here and there, about a 
mile or two distant one from the other, are little 
huts, or sentry boxes, made of bushes, clay, and 
heather—snuggeries for the numerous Custom-house 
officers who guard the passes of the Pyrenees, once, 
maybe now, infested with contrabandistes. These 
little huts look like the sentry boxes of outlying 
pickets, causing one’s mind to revert to the period of 
war. Passing thence at the close of evening—so far 
apart, with night at hand—I have always had diffi¬ 
culty to understand how one man could prevent a score 
of daring contrabandistes from crossing the mountain. 
True, he can fire, to give alarm; yet, I take it, ere 


PAMPELUNA. 


315 


comrades could arrive, the chance would be in favour 
of his body floating down the Bidassoa. Their utility 
is, consequently, more or less theoretical. Still, the 
knowledge that such a chain of sentries exists, may 
have some effect as a preventive of smuggling. For 
my part, I should keep snugly in my hut, and smoke 
my pipe in peace, or sleep away the night. Arrived 
at Pampeluna, perched on a hill-top, and commanding 
a fine view of the distant Pyrenees, and the fair valley 
beneath, a Spanish city of few pretensions, save as 
regards its history of days king syne, the scene 
changes. Dusty or muddy roads lead onwards to 
Tudela, and the Ebro and Meuse, with here and there 
a pine or olive wood. The monotony of the scene 
varies but little till the capital is reached. Here 
you pass no end of windmills ; but not being in La 
Mancha, that which Don Quixote assaulted is not 
visible, while endless are the facsimiles of Sancho, 
and the wine in pig skins, and the mules with their 
bells, and the bronzed faces of the muleteers, caram- 
ba-ing and carraco-ing as heretofore. 

“ How carols now the lusty muleteer, 

Of love, romance, devotion, is nis lay. 

As whilome he was wont the leagues to cheer, 

His quick bells wildly jingling on the way ?” 

And cracking their whips, with chocolate and pure 
water, instead of bitter beer, and a strong aroma of 
garlic hanging on the very air you breathe—scarcely 


316 


THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 


changed since the genius of Cervantes’ immortal pen 
drew pictures of the past which live in the present. 
In fact, having accomplished your journey to Pam- 
peluna, through the beautiful valley of the Bastan, 
imagination must fill up all that remains of interest 
till you enter Madrid by Adraqui, the southern road, 
as it is called, to the capital. In Spain, as elsewhere, 
though, the iron rail has now put a totally different 
face on the whole country, if so be that it has not 
as yet materially altered the habits and customs of the 
people, that is, the country and agricultural people. 
And now having reached Puebla en route to Saragossa 
or Madrid, the traveller passes through much beautiful 
scenery, while reading a scarcely two days old London 
paper, halting here and there at every indifferent rail¬ 
way station, where master and waiters speak Preach, 
and his appetite is very scantily appeased on a repast 
half French, half Spanish; the bad of both cuisines 
appearing to be the effort of the chef, while that of 
the Maitre de Bouffet consists in plundering the 
traveller of the largest amounts in reals within the 
range of his conscience. Conscience !—multiply the 
conscience of such men only by two, and you will find 
a journey to Madrid somewhat expensive. From 
Tudela, a line of railway branches off to Tolosa, at 
the northern line, now the highway generally used 
by those who pass the frontier to the Spanish capital. 
Let us journey there together. 


CHAPTER XX. 


IHE RAILWAY ROUTE PROM PARIS TO MADRID VIA BAYONNE— 
TOURS—ANGOULEME AND THE VALLEY OP THE CHARENTE— 
BORDEAUX—BAYONNE—THE PASSAGE OF THE MOUNTAINS— 
ENGINEERING DIFFICULTIES OF THE LINE—TOLOSA, VITTORIA, 
BURGOS, AND VALLADOLID. 

The line of railway from Paris to Bayonne, and thence 
to Madrid, now open, is replete with interest, and in 
many parts passes through some of the fairest scenery 
of France. As far as Tours—said to be the beautiful 
city of beautiful women; moreover, according to 
Marmontier, the monk, as chaste as they are beau¬ 
tiful and well-dressed—the charming scenery is too 
well known to legions of my countrymen for me to 
dwell on it. At Tours, however, in the earliest days 
of childhood, I passed some merry summer days, 
when plums were to he had for the asking, and tur¬ 
keys—young, fat, and tender—for about three francs, 
or two-and-sixpence each. These little luxuries exist, 
however, only in the memory of the past; for turkeys, 
like all other means of existence, together with house 


318 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


rent, are now as expensive at Tours as elsewhere. 
The beauty of position, however, still remains, and, 
doubtless, the ladies are as fair as ever; and although 
the climate is southern, and the weather at times 
vastly raw, I by no means desire to dispute the asser¬ 
tion of the monk. And should chance ever permit 
me again to halt there for twenty-four hours, I shall 
certainly endeavour to find out one fair lady—that is, 
an old cook—for whom, when about eight years of 
age, I was wont to pick up snails in our capacious 
garden after a thunder-storm, when she asserted they 
were always in high flavour, and, moreover, assured 
the whole family that her aunt converted into 
(< creme de limacon" for a celebrated hairdresser, 
whereas, if truth was known, her aunt made soup of 
them for her uncle. 

Leaving Tours, its cathedral, its amphitheatre, 
its charming environs, and flowing river Loire—the 
Chateau of Plessis-les-Tours, which recalls to memory 
Scott's charming novel of “ Quentin Durward"—the 
line leads onwards over the fine viaduct of Grammont, 
with a magnificent panorama, watered by the Loire 
and the Cher, which here run parallel. Hence the 
feudal castles to the right and left have each their 
stories of days long gone. By the Indre is the old 
castle of Montbazon, and near it is Couzier, where 
Marie de' Medici was reconciled to her son. 


TOURS AND POITIERS. 319 

Louis XIII., in 1619, and where De Bance, who re¬ 
formed the order of the Trappists, found the Duchess 
of Montbazon lying headless in her coffin. And as 
you smoke your pipe in peace—suffered without fear 
of fine, if not actually permitted in French railways 
—you enjoy the sight of alternating vineyards and 
woods, pass by a viaduct over the smiling valley of 
Meaux, pass the irregular chateau of Brou, and halt 
at Vienne, with its thickly-wooded slopes. Thence, 
through rich vineyards and well-cultivated lands, 
villages and towns of interest, to Poitiers—an in¬ 
teresting old city, picturesque and historical, with 
many a remarkable relic of the stormy past in its 
narrow, winding streets. Here was fought the battle 
of Poitiers—here Calvin preached. The cathedral 
and churches of St. Badegonde and Notre Dame de 
La Grande—the ruins of the palace of the old Counts 
of Poitou, and the old crumbling walls—tempt many 
an antiquary to halt by the wayside; in fact, from 
Tours to Bordeaux the whole country teems with inte¬ 
rest. To the gastronome I name Civray for its truffles, 
chestnuts, and beef; and, moreover, suggest that no 
traveller having taste should ever pass Buffee, though 
the train halts only for five minutes, without, in due 
season, immediately becoming the possessor of a “pate 
de perdreaux aux truffes.” The name of the maker of 
these pies escapes me ; but, whoever he may be, I 


320 THE queen’s messenger. 

recommend the Emperor to decorate him at once—as 
many far less beneficial to mankind have been deco¬ 
rated—with the Legion of Honour, or let him at once 
create him “ Count Pate de Truffe.” Thousands are 
annually sold ; and taking it for granted that railway 
travellers have no objection to such delicacies, either 
for self or friends, no sooner does the train stop than 
the cleanest of hands thrusts into the carriages 
cleanest-made and most excellent pies, varying in 
price from five to twenty francs. Take my advice, 
secure two of them, at least, for your journey. Then on 
to Kars, where you may wash your pie down with 
a glass of Hermitage or Roc de Vars ; repairing 
thence, through charming landscapes covered with 
vines, chestnut trees, and orchard trees, to Angouleme. 
If you are not a royal messenger, dine and sleep there 
by all means ; if you are, imagine you have dined and 
slept at Angouleme—you have still your pate de truffe 
to fall back on. 

Angouleme is built on a height, and surrounded 
with ramparts and gardens, looking on the rich 
valley of the Charente; it is an old historical place, 
with its cathedral, castle, and religious relics; but 
Bordeaux is before you, and it is absolutely necessary 
that we halt there for an hour or two, to quaff if only 
one bottle of the best produce of the vineyards, which 
abound en route ere we reach the frontier, and hence- 


ANGOULEME AND BORDEAUX. 


321 


forth, for economy sake, are compelled to squeeze the 
pig-skin. Meanwhile for those who have time to 
halt when disposition urges, or even for those who 
have not, in fine summer and autumn weather the 
recollection of a railway run from Paris to the great 
city on the Garonne, is in all respects most pleasing. 

The scenery is varied, rich, highly cultivated and 
interesting, now through leagues of vineyards—now 
through golden orchards, past green valleys dotted 
with cattle, by many an ancient castle and keep, with 
many pleasant cottages and stations rejoicing in 
flowers. 

Bordeaux has fine streets, noble quays, and a 
flourishing commerce. It is, in fact, a prosperous 
and brilliant city, where, my good friends, you may 
halt in comfort and repose in peace. Moreover, it is 
on the direct road to more attractive places, and you 
may eat good food there without fear of an indiges¬ 
tion, and drink good wine without fear of a headache, 
taking it for granted that you are a judge of both. 
At breakfast I suggest a little fish, called voyans, from 
Arcachon: have them broiled, and do not eat too 
many—a petit verre of cognac—that is, fine champagne, 
of the very best, may be taken afterwards with good 
effect, previous to starting for Bayonne, on which line, 
on your arrival at the Landes, which means about 
eighty miles of monotonous flat open land, I suggest— 

21 


322 THE queen's messenger. 

having taken a cursory view from each window of 
the railway carriage to behold a variety of peasants, 
hoys and girls, men and women, perched on stilts 
(the common custom of the country) of the boggy 
and marshy state of the land—you repose yourself 
into a comfortable nap, wake up at Marsau, where 
there occurs an oasis in the desert, and you will find a 
well-served table d'hote, at three francs a-head, and 
what you like for the waiter. I am compelled, as an 
old traveller, to remark, that when en route you find a 
good table, or a good anything else, particularly when 
going south, never neglect it. It is impossible to say 
what the morrow may bring forth. 

After leaving Dax, the old capital of the Tarbelli, 
at the outskirts of the sterile lands, the distant 
Pyrenees of Dax appear in sight. I have little to say, 
save that it is the halting place for those who desire 
to proceed to Pau, and said to be famous for its hams, 
as is Bayonne ; the former information is a fact to be 
relied on—the latter only existing in the imagination. 
My good friends—I address those who really under¬ 
stand and appreciate a really good ham—my naming 
to you that what is by the ignorant termed Jambon 
de Bayonne, is, literally speaking, de Bayonne, in 
Spain; moreover, their excellence consists far more in 
the mode and manner of preparation, and from the 
fact, that when in a state of natural pork, they feed 


BAYONNE HAMS. 


323 


on chestnuts, and some assert snakes, than their actual 
porky flavour, which, after all, is not to be compared 
to a well-cured Hampshire or Wiltshire ham. One 
of these hams may annually be procured at Madrid, 
for about four, or even five shillings a pound. But 
Dax can lay no claim to them, and as for Bayonne, 
in my ignorance, I once searched the town in hopes 
of finding that agreeable matutinal condiment, but 
discovered nothing but the ill-cured hind leg of a 
long-backed French porker. But as I have said, on 
leaving Dax and its hams—if there are any—the 
Pyrenees soon hold their heads aloft; and the train 
glides through a rich and pleasant country—made 
more pleasant by the sight of bright summer residences, 
surrounded with gardens, and the broad Adour 
sparkling in the suit's rays, studded with white sails, 
and smoked with steamers, till you halt at the railway 
station : there you may consider you have bid adieu 
to La Belle France, but you will leave behind you a 
gay and bustling little town, full of moderate comforts, 
civilization, and beauty. The castle and fortifications 
of Bayonne command the waters of the Adour and 
the Nive at their junction, and as you look on them, 
and the smiling country they water, memory will 
bring back the past in thought of the many brave 
and warm English hearts, whose bones lie buried 
there, either from want of knowledge that peace 

21 —2 


324 THE queen's messenger. 

had been declared, or vanity and vengeance; make 
your choice. 

Nothing can he more charming than the country 
after leaving Bayonne. St. Jean de Luz, Xrun, the 
Bidassoa Passage, and the rocky eminence of St. 
Sebastian are severally passed, one and all calling the 
mind to revert to the days when English blood was 
spilt in rivers to secure the independence of the country 
and a throne whose people appear scarcely to recollect 
the honoured name of Wellington; while I verily 
believe the juvenile dons who live and smoke — I 
never found them capable of doing much else—in this, 
the year 1865, at Madrid, appear scarcely ever to have 
heard of the hard-fought fields of Vittoria, Salamanca, 
and Albuera; and if they ever have, it is to regret 
that English bayonets should have prevented Spanish 
chivalry unaided from driving the French over the 
Pyrenees. One can only hope that the iron rail which 
now has forced its way through these mountain passes, 
will induce the Caballeros beyond the Ebro to visit 
other lands than their own, and become wiser. 

The main engineering difficulties of the line from 
Bayonne to Madrid—and a wonderful line it is—are 
comprised within thirty miles, as the crow flies, be¬ 
tween Beasain and Olazagutia, the extreme point of 
the Pyrenean pass — a wonderful country indeed 
through which to thrust the iron leviathan. It took, 


BAYONNE AND MADRID RAILWAY. 


325 


as I am informed, eighteen months to construct this 
thirty miles, upon which were concentrated the in¬ 
telligence and sinewy force of an army of 12,000 
labourers. In fact, the following information, for 
which I have to thank some able engineer unknown 
to me, cannot be without interest:—It took eighteen 
months to construct this last bit, upon which were 
concentrated the intelligence and the sinewy force of 
an army of 12,000 labourers, including miners from 
Piedmont, carpenters and masons from France, and 
navvies from Aragon and Castile. Of the latter there 
were 5,000 ; of miners, 3,000 ; of stonemasons, 1,000 ; 
of quarrymen and stonecutters, 1,000 ; of smiths and 
metal-workers, 400 ; of waggoners, 400; and of the 
class “ labourer/’ 1,000. To provide for the accom¬ 
modation and the daily and casual wants of these 
people, villages were improvised in ravines and on the 
mountain slopes, with hundreds of stables for mules, 
and sheds for carts and waggons. Storehouses had to 
be built and filled with provisions of all kinds; nor 
were hospitals forgotten, in the event of casualties. 
Castile furnished 600 mules, completely equipped, for 
road service alone to and from the port of St. Sebas¬ 
tian, the transport of material to the ..stations in the 
mountain roads being performed by 500 pairs (yoke) 
of oxen hired from the farmers of the vicinity. To blast 
those thirty miles of granite, limestone, marbles, and 


32 G 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


sandstone, and boulders big* as cathedrals, it required 
14,000,0001bs. of gunpowder, chiefly imported from 
England, and to fire the trains of the mines, 2,250 miles 
of slow-match. England and France also contributed 
12,000 tons of coal, 12,000 cubic metres of timber, 2,000 
tons of iron for the viaducts, and 1,000 tons for the tools. 
There were also brought into requisition 20,000 shovels 
and picks, 460,000 planks, and 3,000 barrows. The 
gradient between the two points above-mentioned is 
15 millimetres per metre, or say, for we are not yet 
quite familiar with the metric system in England, 
about one foot in every 330, or 16 feet per mile in 
round numbers. It must be borne in mind that the 
traveller has been ascending almost from Xrun, but at 
Beasain commences the great ascent, terminating at 
Olazagutia, these two points being, as mentioned 
above, about thirty miles apart, in a direct line,, 
though more than double that distance has to be 
traversed in consequence of the sinuous course of the 
iron road. The greater portion of this region is wealthy 
in ores of different kinds, especially of iron, copper, 
and lead, and it also abounds in alabaster, excellent 
limestone, and anthracite, large quantities of which 
latter are employed in different localities to feed the 
fires of the lime and plaster kilns. 

Having emerged through these everlasting tunnels, 
behold Tolosa, Yittoria, Miranda de l'Ebro, Burgos, 


TOLOSA, VITTORIA, AND VALLADOLID. 327 

Valladolid, the Eseurial, and Madrid; I am not writing 
a history of Spain, good friends, hut telling you how 
you may get to the capital of Isabella Seconds, and 
how I got there, and having attained Olazagutia, the 
highest point of the line, about 3,000 feet 
above the level. I can only say that Tolosa 
is pleasantly situated in the Basque provinces, 
Vittoria teems with the light of other days, Miranda 
has a tolerable station and an indifferent buffet, 
Burgos is renowned for its cathedral, which is worthy 
of an hour au reste, the so-called City of the Cid is 
miserable and dirty, and the hotel disgraceful, and 
Valladolid might have been a capital, and is the 
dirtiest, most uninteresting, dusty, or dull place I have 
heard of yet. Every step you take in these lands 
will be over a sod already moistened with the blood 
and enriched by the imperishable glory of our coun¬ 
trymen. The Escurial, a wonderful mass of bricks 
and mortar, an utter waste of millions of pounds—I 
do not know how to count in reals—not particularly 
well situated, as looking on nothing grand, and much 
of rocky barrenness, no park-like trees, no noble oaks 
or elms, a vast grand barrack or poorhouse in design, 
in which it would be difficult to say how many pucheros 
have been eaten, how many villanies concocted, or 
how many intrigues carried out—say hearts broken. 
The station, by-the-bye—the regal station at the 


328 THE queen's messengek. 

Escurial—is a pig-sty • at least it was so when I last, 
having a slight pain in my inward man, endeavoured 
to get a spoonful of cognac there without effect. In 
fact, having passed the Ebro, bid adieu to the engi¬ 
neering labourers of the Pyrenean tunnels, turned 
one's back on the City of the Cid, fought the battle 
of Vittoria, laid siege to St. Sebastian and Burgos in 
imagination, the route to Madrid, as regards scenery 
and interest, is a dead letter, and I never feel the least 
surprised, but should be surprised under the existing 
circumstances of a railway, to find a dozen well-dressed 
Englishmen in the capital. 


CHAPTER XXI. 


MADRID—THE RAILWAY STATION, AND MEANS OP CONVEYANCE 
TO THE CITY—SPANIARDS’ OPINION OP TIIEIR CAPITAL— 
BADNESS OP THE HOTELS HITHERTO—RECENT IMPROVEMENTS 
—THE GRAND HOTEL DE PARIS—SPANISH TABLE D’HOTES. 

The entrance to Madrid from the north is neither 
pleasing to the eye or agreeable to the senses, and yet 
to those who have known Spain in other days, though 
twenty years have elapsed, and Cosas d’Espagna are 
still Cosas d’Espagna, things or ideas, or theories or 
facts, marmalade or moscpiitoes, or heaven knows what, 
I do not. It is quite clear to the commonest intel¬ 
lect that no European country has advanced more 
rapidly than has Spain of late years, and no country 
seems so little disposed to make the best use of its 
progress, save in teaching Spaniards certainly not to 
do unto others as they would wish to be done by. 
Should you arrive at the station at Madrid, most 
excellent individual—I know nothing about gentle 
readers, who may, perchance, have had the good sense 
to invest in this practical work, which, being utterly 


330 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


ignorant of things in Spain in general, its language, 
and Madrid in particular, you instantly infer—do 
not suppose that you will behold a cab-stand close by 
with a Hansom, sixpence a mile, or two shillings an 
hour : possibly you arrive in the midst of a storm, and 
when it does rain in Spain it does rain, and no mis¬ 
take ; and not being desirous to he suffocated by the 
heat of a strange vehicle miscalled an omnibus, or 
poisoned by the smell of garlic, your discomforts, 
say difficulties, as to the first knowledge of Cosas 
d'Espagna are about to commence. 

Meanwhile, awaiting a conveyance, do not imagine 
that you have arrived at the Spanish capital—not a 
jot of it. No Spaniard believes in Madrid as the 
capital of Spain. It is a court, sir ; if you have never 
previously been at Court you are there at last. 
Madrid is termed the Court, and your pocket suffers 
accordingly. I have told you this as one of the 
Cosas d'Espagna;" nevertheless it is a fact and has 
its demerits. If so be that Madrid is the centre of 
intrigue and numerous other peccadilloes which I have 
no inclination to record, it is none the less a paradise 
to the Caballeros, if not precisely so to him whose 
pleasures or duties may call him there. It is said, that 
when Adam obtained a few days' leave to revisit the 
earth, on passing through Spain he found no reform till 
he entered Madrid, the pleasures of which capital so 


CABS IN MADRID. 


331 


enthralled him that he found some difficulty in 
dragging himself back to Paradise. It is a common 
saying, “ Quien dice Espagna dice Todo,” and again, 
“ There is but one Madrid.” u Non hay sino un 
Madrid.” In fact it is but one stage from Madrid to 
La Gloria or Paradise. Be it so; I own to having" a 
liking for people who stand up for their fatherland, 
though it by no means follows, according to the old 
proverb, that you must needs do at Borne what the 
Bomans do, or at Madrid as do the Madrideans. I 
for one am neither given to cigarillos, garlic, nor 
sheep’s fry, though I confess to a weakness for a 
puchero, of which more anon. 

Finding no cabs, as at London or Paris, and 
being anxious to quit the miserable and uncom¬ 
fortable railway station; moreover, concluding that 
you cannot speak Spanish, or even having that 
accomplishment it little serves you, for the patois of 
the people is an impossible language, you avail your¬ 
self of a wretched vehicle drawn by one animal, mis¬ 
named a horse, or may be three, adorned with bells, 
which greatly afflict your nerves. Giving the name 
of your hotel, you trust yourself to the honesty of the 
driver as to the charge : you will soon find out your 
mistake. I never yet discovered that there is any 
tariff for public conveyances in Madrid, and I am not 
quite sure there is any law. So your little trips, per- 


332 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


formed not speedily, suffering all the way from the 
tinkling of the hells and the caraccos and perfume 
of your conducteur—you pay, there is no alternative, 
about the same as a Hansom in London would cost 
from the city to Richmond. 

Now all the travelling world, and most of the 
reading world, are aware, that the hotels in Spain 
were, and for the most part are, about the worst in 
Europe. Truth at the same time compels me to 
admit that a great improvement has of late taken 
place on this head, as regards “ La Corte,” or the 
capital, or by whatever name the city of Madrid may 
be called; and notwithstanding the climate, which 
even by Spaniards is admitted to be, “ Tres messes de 
inviemo y nuere del inferio/' which being inter¬ 
preted into plain English, simply means that for 
three months you are half-frozen, and during 
nine you are as hot as it is supposed to be “ down 
belowstill, ten days or a fortnight may now be 
comfortably passed there without much danger of 
ennui , though not without considerable expense. 

The hotels, so called, are legion; you have for 
selection the Hotel des Princes, in the Puerta del 
Sol, in which there is a modern fountain of no great 
pretensions, and which is, par excellence , the most 
distinguished locality of the capital. All the world 
— Madridean-fashionables, commercial, muleteers, 


SPANISH HOTELS. 


333 


and members of the Royal family, pass there or linger 
there at some moments of the day or night. There 
are more cigarillos smoked there—good, bad, and 
indifferent—in a week than would fill an omnibus; 
more te Cosas d^Espagna” discussed, more intrigues 
concocted, more hours idled away, than pen dare write 
or tongue assert. Indeed, on looking from the window 
of my hotel, when rising in the morning and retiring 
at night, I have never been enabled clearly to 
understand who the people can be, and for what 
purpose they congregate in masses, or stroll and idle 
about, as if no one had any object in life but looking 
at the fountain in the centre of the puerta, so I must 
call it, for it is neither a square, a parallelogram, nor 
circus. You have also the Hotel des Ambassadeurs, 
the Biscayan, the Eontarabia, and a host of other 
hotels, all indifferent and at the same time expensive. 
You had likewise for the travelling world, more par¬ 
ticularly the aristocratic portion of it, the Hotel 
d’Angleterre, vis-a-vis to the English Legation, in the 
Calle de Torrija. There you could be made most com¬ 
fortable, and be by no means pillaged by the amiable 
landlord, with whom I am only acquainted by the 
name of Don Hoze. Moreover, in addition to 
the cleanliness and excellent cuisine of Don Hoze’s 
establishment of other days, there was a sort of ro¬ 
mance attending the hotel, house, or palace, inasmuch 


334 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


as it was tlie ancient court of the Inquisition, and it 
was difficult to say how many ghosts of departed 
Caballeros, who had been tortured in the dungeons 
said to be now Don Hozd's cellars, had been known 
to disturb the nightly rest of the guests. At all 
events, I do not recollect ever having been fortunate 
enough to encounter one, though many a pleasant 
night and many an excellent dinner have I enjoyed 
there. Happily, however, in these days, a new era as 
regards hotels is commenced, and it is to be hoped 
that the example set by the capital will, with the 
advance of railways, find its way into the Spanish 
provinces; otherwise, travellers who journey for plea¬ 
sure will have to hesitate ere they cross the frontier. 
I have been treating of Madrid as it was, in regard 
to its hotels. Madrid, like Paris, now possesses its 
grand Hotel de Paris, and I am ready to admit that 
it is a great advance as far as hotel comfort is con¬ 
cerned in Spain; at all events, it certainly will be 
found by far the best in Madrid, which perhaps is not 
saying much. It is, however, admirably situated in 
the Puerta del Sol. The landlord and attendance are 
remarkably civil, and the house is clean and well-fur¬ 
nished. The saloon or public dining-room is, how- 
e\Gi, unw 01 thy the size and pretensions of the house, 
which contains 126 apartments. The charges in 
theory appear moderate, in reality, however, they are 


LIVING AT HOTELS. 


335 


excessive. Your portmanteau pays for the dinner you 
do not eat, and for your breakfast you are charged so 
much per diem. Moreover, the apartments are charged 
about double the price at London or Paris, and, 
although the reputation of the chef-de-ciiisine rests 
upon the fact of his having cooked a dinner for the 
Empress of the French—if it were not better cooked 
than the dinner he usually cooks for the visitors at 
the Grand Hotel—I must admit that I for one, who 
have had some practical experience, will by no means 
admit that he is a professor of his art. In fact, the 
living at Madrid, to say the least of it, is bad—the 
why I shall endeavour presently to illustrate; and, as 
I have already said, unreasonably expensive also. 
There are other little disadvantages attending Spanish 
hotels that to an Englishman, say, if you will, to a 
gentleman, still more to a lady, are odious. If 
you dine in your private room, you pay double and 
fare worse. If you dine at the table d’hote, while the 
hour does not always suit, the company generally 
speaking suits less. If you are only passing through 
the city, unmindful of gastronomy, curiosity may lead 
you to the public dinner table; but to the sojourner 
of a month it is by no means agreeable to sit side by 
side with a Caballero whose hands do not appear to 
have been washed for a week, who helps himself to 
olives with his fingers, uses his fork as a toothpick, 


336 THE queen's messenger. 

and smokes and takes up alike grease, gravy, and oil 
with his knife, which he then buries in his throat 
like an Indian juggler. Diversity of society under 
such circumstances is amusing, but certainly not 
dirty society; and if, perchance, your neighbour does 
not smell strongly of garlic, it is more than probable 
that ere you have half-finished dinner, without the 
slightest apology or question as to your love of tobacco 
smoke, he puffs his cigarillo in your face. I regret 
to add—that the fair sex, as in Germany, are equally 
given to an improper use of their knives, which, 
happily, are not made to cut, or some dire mishap 
would be a matter of hourly certainty. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

THE SPANISH CAPITAL—MODE OF DOMESTIC LIVING IN MADRID— 
PROVISIONS—MARKETS —SUPPLIES OF BEEF, MUTTON, POULTRY, 
AND FISH—VEGETABLES AND FRUITS—WINES—WATER SUPPLY 
—FOOD OF THE COMMON PEOPLE. 

Having spoken somewhat largely on Madrid, and its 
hotel advantages, it may be as well to inform my 
readers of the mode and manner in which people live in 
the so-called sunny clime of Espagna; the more so, 
speaking gastronomically, because the means of living 
are widely different from anything at home. 

Hospitality, so to speak, is, I may say, a virtue 
all but unknown, in so far as it is accepted in Saxon 
meaning or British hearts, in a place where people 
dine upon what it would be difficult for the most 
acute observer correctly to discover. I do not infer 
that a Spaniard is unmindful of a good dinner, and 
that he will not accept one, nor do I imagine that the 
Representatives of the several European courts are un¬ 
mindful of that part of their diplomatic duties which 
consists in the keeping of a good cook, and offering 

2 ^ 


338 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


the works of his art to his colleagues or to the 
grandees and caballeros of the Corte. But a good 
cook in Madrid has, I can assure the reader, a very- 
up-hill game, solely, as I shall show, because the 
means of fairly illustrating his art are very difficult, 
if not impossible, to be obtained ; and although the 
Prime Minister of Spain for the time being, doubt¬ 
less, is ready to take advantage of the repast offered 
by the Ambassadeur of France or the Plenipo from 
England, I doubt much if one or the other ever had 
their polished boots under his mahogany'- or walnut- 
wood in return. Neither can I answer for the genius 
of her Most Catholic majesty Isabella's chef, as she 
never invited me to dinner. Du reste, the good 
people—Spanish—have an absolute fureur for garlic, 
sausages, sheep's fry, olive oil, and kid. The roast 
beef of Old England and the filet of Paris are to them 
delicacies unknown. M. L'Hardy, the French restau¬ 
rant, can supply in due season a Yorkshire ham, a 
truffled pheasant, or a capon de Bresse, at a cost of 
about fifty francs each. But such trifles are, of course, 
not obtainable by the public, and, moreover, cannot 
be considered as “ Cosas d'Espagna." Let me now 
touch on the means of provisioning the capital. It 
is an interesting subject, and goes far to illustrate the 
every-day history of the produce of the country. 
Nothing, then, can be less agreeable than a visit to 


THE MARKETS OF MADRID. 


339 


the markets of Madrid—one so full of interest at 
Paris and elsewhere. Attempts have been made by 
some energetic persons to effect changes for the 
better; hut, whether from the want of money or 
vested interests, nothing whatever has been done in 
the way of improvement, and the markets are as they 
were—unpleasant as ever to the eyes, the mind, and 
the nose. Without good markets, there can, of 
course, be little hope of abundant supplies of food; 
and, for the most part, the meat in Madrid is very 
indifferent. The why is easily explained. In the 
first place, the cattle all over Spain are used for agri¬ 
cultural purposes and as beasts of draught; and 
wherever such is the case, good beef is rarely to be 
found. Secondly, the plains around Madrid are arid, 
affording little pasturage and less water, consequently 
they are ill adapted for the feeding and fattening of 
cattle or sheep. Moreover, the flocks of sheep which 
are fed on the mountains of the Gfuadarama, or south¬ 
down hills of the city, are bred principally for the 
production of wool, and it is only the very worst of 
them that are handed over to the butcher after the 
clip. Add to this, that meat is very difficult to keep 
in the hot climate of Madrid; and, above all, that 
the Spaniards are no great lovers of mutton. 

Veal and pork, when they are in season, particu¬ 
larly pork, can be obtained of better quality ; and the 


340 


THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER, 


hams cured in Spain are said to be of superior flavour 
.—indeed, they are renowned. They may suit some 
tastes, yet I confess never to have eaten one at all 
equal to our Hampshire or Wiltshire hams, many of 
which, doubtless, are sold for Spanish hams in 
England. 

With regard to poultry, it is a curious fact that, 
although the Spanish breed of fowls is celebrated, the 
art of fattening them is apparently unknown, and 
their e£!£S are small and tasteless. In fact, the best 
poultry is brought from France, and I need scarcely 
add that its cost is excessive. Rabbits, pigeons, &c., 
which feed themselves, are abundant, and of better 
quality. There is, however, no description of game 
or bird which is high-flavoured or reasonably good. 
In matters of dairy produce Spaniards are also most 
deficient, although milk is supplied in abundance, 
being brought in every morning from the country. 
Butter, however, is very scarce, bad, and dear. I 
have heard that good butter is to be obtained, but 
rarely have met with it. The cheese of Spain is, 
moreover, worthless. 

Until railways were opened, with the French 
frontier as with the coast, Madrid, from its inland 
situation, scarcely received any good supply of fish, 
with the exception of trout, the produce of the 
mountain streams. Now, however, Courromana, on 


SUPPLY OF FISH. 


341 


the north-west, and Alicante, on the southern coast, 
send a tolerable supply of certain sorts of fish, more 
especially soles, red mullet, and a coarse description of 
cod called Merzula, bass, oysters, &c., and I am 
bound to add, that the moderate amount of salmon 
from the Bidassoa, as from the Adour, at Bayonne, 
although immoderate in price, is as good as any 
salmon in Europe. 

There are one or two dining houses, at which 
especial attention is paid to the production of fish 
dinners. They are all, however, ruinous in price. 
The sole is, perhaps, the dearest fish; a tolerably- 
sized one cannot be obtained at a restaurant under a 
dollar. The red mullets, though not so dear, are 
spoilt by cooking, added to which, they open and 
clean them, thereby destroying their flavour in the 
spirit of gastronomy. The bass are bad, indeed 
uneatable to the man who has any taste. 

Oysters, not fine ones, cost 2^d. each, but the two 
«reat treats of the Madridean in the fish line are 
cockles stewed in oil, and scuttle-fish done in a sauce 
produced by itself. 

Vegetables in Spain are good, especially cauli¬ 
flowers, peas, beans, beetroot, and tomatoes; but they 
are invariably spoiled, at least to an English taste, by 
cooking. A very common and cheap vegetable is the 
Cayenne, which grows to enormous proportions; but 


342 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


the Spaniards scarcely know how to use it. It has a 
flavour of red pepper, and, for the most part, they 
reject it as being too hot and indigestible. Cabbages, 
potatoes, and spinach, are ordinarily served with meat, 
apparently to disguise its flavour. Salads are some¬ 
times very fine, but always destroyed by oil, garlic, or 
sardines, the prevailing gastronomic errors of the 
country. 

If little can be said of the meat, poultry, fish, or 
vegetables of Spain, some of the fruits are equal, if 
not superior, to any other country I know of. Grapes 
are in great variety, pears rich and abundant, and of a 
size which would astonish our fruit growers ; and the 
same may be said of apples and mulberries, “ the 
blood of the Moor," as they are poetically termed, of 
the largest size, and most delicious flavour, whereas 
although the peaches suffer either from excessive 
ripening, or too early gathering, yet when in good 
preservation, they are delicious. Figs, dates, and 
olives are all remarkably fine, as are the chestnuts 
and nuts of many varieties with which we are wholly 
unacquainted in England. Oranges and lemons 
abound, and pomegranates grow to the size of a man's 
head. 

We have now discussed the means, not only of 
existence, but of satisfying the inward man gastro- 
nomically. It is necessary also to drink. So now for 


WINES OF SPAIN. 


343 


the wines of Espagna. Bitter beer, or any other 
beer drinkable, is, unfortunately, not a Cosa d’Es- 
pagna. 

An Englishman, though of course he believes in 
the contrary, knows nothing whatever of pure Spanish 
wine; he has known gold and pale sherry in the 
docks and at his wine merchant’s, besides some sorts 
of recent importation, of which he knows little or 
nothing, and does not like so well. The sherry 
which he drinks is the produce only of a particular 
locality near Cadiz, and is grown and manufactured 
entirely for home consumption, that js to say, the 
homes of England. There is sherry, of course, to be 
obtained in Madrid, and other large towns in the 
interior, but it is just as dear, in fact dearer, than in 
London, and, generally speaking, not half so agree¬ 
able to the palate. 

The universal wine of general consumption in the 
interior of Spain is the Yal de Penas, which is in no 
manner like sherry; its colour is darker than port, 
and, although in some measure like Burgundy, it has 
the disadvantage of being a heady wine, and of not 
amalgamating well with water. Moreover, for pur¬ 
poses of carriage, it is sent to Madrid in hog-skins, 
which are so ill prepared that they impart a most 
disagreeable flavour to the wine, particularly to 
foreigners, though it is not unpopular with the 


344 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


people of Spain. When free from the porky flavour, 
which it rarely is, it is by no means unpleasant, and 
its cost, moreover, is very moderate; at the best 
hotels it is to be had for sixpence a bottle. 

A more delicate common wine is Montilla, a very 
light white wine, of agreeable flavour, a very small 
quantity of which imparts to water a sub-acidity 
exceedingly pleasant in hot weather. 

With the Spaniards, however, the Montilla is not 
so popular as the “ Black Strapindeed, not a bottle 
of Montilla is consumed to two dozen of Val de Penas. 
Manzanilla and Amontillado are the finer wines drunk 
by the higher classes; they cost from four to eight 
shillings a bottle. The wines from France and Por¬ 
tugal are even dearer; very ordinary port and Bor¬ 
deaux are not less than ten shillings, consequently 
they are little used. Champagne is about the same 
price; and although beer is brewed by Bavarians, the 
Caballerros are little given to malt. 

Water, the most valuable beverage of all, was but 
yesterday literally a luxury in Madrid. Blessed, I 
say, be those who made it otherwise. I fancy this 
was accomplished by English capital. It is now 
comparatively abundant, but varies much in quality; 
consequently if there is much good and very little 
bad, there is a great deal very indifferent. That 
kept in large Moorish earthen jars is of delicious 


SUPPLY OF WATER. 


345 


coolness. As a proof of its excellence, I may name 
that it is a large item of commerce, being served in 
summer in the streets, as on the Prado, at a halfpenny 
a glass. If any objection is to be taken to the waters 
there are abundant methods in Madrid for rectifying 
it. Ice is in far more general use than in England, 
and the most delicious beverages,flavoured with lemons, 
oranges, unripe grapes, and other fruits, are sold at 
the lowest prices. Indeed, the large goblets of lemon 
ice served in the best Madrid cafes at a “real,” or 
about twopence-halfpenny, put to shame our London 
competitors. 

So much for fruit, meat, fish, wine, and water. The 
cookery of Madrid—taken as Spanish cookery—creates 
nothing but bile and indigestion, and bile and indi¬ 
gestion are evils to the inward man on which I need 
scarcely dwell. The puchero, like to the roast beef 
of Old England with us, is, perhaps, the dish most 
general on the tables of poor and rich, and a puchero 
well concocted of fowl and flesh, and vegetables not 
too highly seasoned, is a fit repast for the most fas¬ 
tidious taste, whereas a “ puchero’"’ for the less refined 
stomach of bacon, beef, oil, and caravansos, and dried 
peas, would not be so generally esteemed. The pastry 
of Madrid—that is to say, purely Spanish pastry, is 
simply a mixture of flour, bad butter or lard, disagree¬ 
able and expensive. The bread, on the other hand. 


346 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


is of a very superior quality, white as snow, and 
most pleasant to the palate; though fashion, most 
odious at times, prefers a class of roll made after 
the French manner, like that which in our father- 
land we call a French roll, hut in France is mis¬ 
named “ pain Anglais." Of neither is there a very 
large consumption. The ordinary food of the people 
appears to me to consist of a description of chick pea, 
and may he considered to rank very low in the list of 
national diets, of which oils and olives form a great 
portion. I believe the late William Cobbett attri¬ 
buted all the evils of Ireland to that watery produc¬ 
tion, the potato; in like manner have I heard all the 
evils of Spain attributed to the “ chick pea." 

I have now given some hints from which may be 
found the advantages or disadvantages of a residence 
or mere visit to Spain, speaking for the most part 
of the capital or the “ Corte," and the route thereto. 
A visit to the south of Spain, however, offers tenfold 
more of interest and beauty of scenery, and there 
naturally the provincial modes, manners, and produce 
of the country are best learned. It is, however, rarely 
the good fortune of a royal messenger to travel beyond 
the limits of a court. 

Flaving visited Madrid for at least twenty times 
during many years, I would humbly believe that I am 
practically acquainted with the subjects I have briefly 


FOOD OF THE POPULACE. 


347 


discussed. I have, however, to thank a very clever 
and impartial writer on the subject of Spanish mar¬ 
kets for some hints of recent date, as regards which, 
from the lapse of years, the writer of these pages was 
not entirely acquainted. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 


MY VOYAGE TO AMERICA—THE PERSIA STEAMER—THE COMPORTS 
ON BOARD—ARRIVAL AT NEW YORK—IN WASHINGTON—THE 
PRESIDENT — PUBLIC BUILDINGS — RAILW T AY TRAVELLING — 
HOTELS—THEATRES—GENERAL SOCIETY. 

There was a period, and that within the present 
century, when a journey from Durham to London 
was a matter for a week's consideration, the parting 
from home and friends one of tears and sorrow, the 
packing and preparation one of loss of time and fore¬ 
thought, the journey one of fatigue and expense, not 
always unattended with danger. The advent of rail¬ 
ways and steam has, however, long since materially 
altered all this; and now we go, as it were, from 
Europe to America, or from London to Calcutta, 
thinking solely of time, and, for the most part, re¬ 
gardless of distance or outlay. 

Thus, when I rose on the morning of the 26th of 
September of the year IS—, to walk around the pre¬ 
cincts of my simple home garden in dear Old England, 
still in the brightness of many an autumnal flower, in 


VOYAGE TO AMERICA. 


349 


the charming neighbourhood where for several years 
I have found a peaceful and happy resting-place, I had 
as little thought that on the night following I should 
leave the shores of my fatherland to cross the wide 
waters of the Atlantic, and he now writing these lines 
hard by the hanks of the Potomac, as of being declared 
President of the United States; hut duty called me, 
and I am here; and although the mode and manner 
of my getting here to the few may he of slight interest, 
to the many who still may chance to come it may he 
interesting, and so let me write how I got here. 

In light marching order, on the night of the 27th 
of September, 18—, at 8.30 to the minute, I started 
from Euston-square station by railway for Holyhead ; 
and I am free to admit, although, I believe, having 
travelled by every railway now open throughout 
Europe, that I know of none, without it be the Great 
Western, or possibly the French line from Paris to 
Marseilles, in which I have experienced such rapidity 
of travelling, or such entire comfort in locomotion. 
Four a.m., if I am not incorrect, brought us to Holy- 
head, when from the railway carriage we walked on 
board a steamer—for the particular service in which 
she is employed, viz., to carry the mails and passengers 
to and from England to Kingstown, unrivalled in 
comfort and speed. The passage occupied about four 
hours, or less—a distance of about sixty miles, and 


350 


THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 


thence, after an hour’s delay, we sped onwards with 
arrow’s flight to Queenstown, where I joined the 
Persia, one of Cunard’s splendid Atlantic mail 
steamers. 

Ere I leave my native land, however, or, more pro¬ 
perly speaking, the green pastures of old Ireland, may 
I not repeat that it has been my good fortune to visit 
every capital in Europe ? indeed, I may truthfully 
assert, there is scarcely a well-known mountain side 
on which my footsteps have not lingered, scarcely a 
river on whose banks I have not whiled away a plea¬ 
sant hour ; yet, whether on those of our lovely Father 
Thames—and for the most part they are lovely—on 
the Danube, the Po, the Seine, the Neva, or the far- 
famed Bosphorus, charming as they all are in their 
natural beauties, I must admit that, for rich and 
luxuriant home scenery, the so-called Cove of Cork 
stands unrivalled; though the day on which I beheld 
it was by no means fair, as the dark and fleeting clouds 
rushed across the sky, now leaving their shadows on 
the woodlands, now clearing away, and allowing the 
sun to burst in brightness over the land, touching 
with a golden hue the rich autumnal tints of the 
clustering trees, amid which scores of wealthy homes 
seemed to nestle in beauty as in peace. 

My feelings were saddened with the thought that 
duty called me so hastily from these unrivalled charms 


THE COVE OF CORK. 


351 


of nature, to visit a country where the blood-stained 
hand of civil and inhuman strife was raging with un¬ 
relenting fury. And as I turned with one lingering 
look on these rich and wood-clad slopes, so touching 
to one about to cross the broad Atlantic to visit scenes 
so revolting to the calm contemplation of God’s own 
works of beauty, with a fervent prayer that I might 
soon be permitted to look on them again, I could not 
help thinking that— 

“ Erin, 0 Erin, thy winter is past. 

And the hope that lived through it shall blossom at last.” 

In fact, there are few places more bright and beautiful 
—with the exception of the water, which at low tide 
is dark and muddy—than that which the eye of man 
looks on who travels from the city of Cork to the 
rapidly increasing modern port of Queenstown. 

But I am now on board the good ship Persia, one, 
as I have said, of the best, if not the best, of Cunard’s 
line of steamers; and this is admitting much, when 
all are said to be good. Travelling as I was, however, 
under peculiar circumstances, it might be possible 
that I experienced more than usual courtesy and kind¬ 
ness. If it were so, however, I must r admit that 
throughout a passage of more than usual duration, 
owing to fresh gales and head winds, I observed no¬ 
thing to the contrary towards any one on board; 
moreover, I had the good fortune to find myself in a 


352 


THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 


very airy deck cabin, belonging to one of the officers 
of the ship, and, to my inexpressible comfort, alone 
with my belongings. One lingering look on the 
beautiful shores of Ireland, the massive wheels threw 
up their spray, and we bid adieu for a season to 
Europe. 

No ship, as far as I could judge—and I have ex¬ 
perienced some tolerably foul weather on the so-called 
calm Mediterranean—could be steadier in a heavy sea 
than was our ocean home, the Persia; no ship better 
found, none more comfortable, if aught can possibly 
be termed comfortable on the high seas. And as for 
the commissariat—though some among the two hun¬ 
dred and fifty first-class passengers which we numbered 
did grumble, as, doubtless, ’tis their nature to—I 
humbly opine that we had all, and more, than reason¬ 
able men could desire an I expect of gastronomic 
indulgence. 

Indeed, I soon began to long for the termination 
of the voyage, were it only to abstain from gorman¬ 
dizing, and obtain some exercise on terra firma. 

However, all on board seemed to declare—and for 
the most part all the world hold to the same opinion, 
and I was not anxious to be singular—that it is 
necessary to eat at all times as at all hours on the 
Atlantic, if only for pastime. And while I soon dis¬ 
covered that this spirit affected all who did not expe¬ 
rience the miserable effects of sea-sickness—a spirit 


DINING ON THE ATLANTIC. 


353 


which was permitted to be put into practice from 
8.30 a.m. till the ship bells struck, or midnight—I 
felt it necessary, for the sake of peace—only for the 
sake of peace—to do as others did. Meanwhile— 

“ Whole barons of beef were cut down, sir, 

Demolish’d unto the back-bone, sir.” 

Breakfast at 8.30 a.m., luncheon at mid-day, dinner 
at -1< p.m., tea at 7.30, while supper commenced 
at 9, terminating about midnight with every species 
of grog hot, with and without, the intermediate hours 
between meals being filled up with various courteous 
hobnobbings with every stranger—for the most part 
Yankees—who did me the honour—scarcely the kind¬ 
ness—of an invitation to “ liquor up,” or taste—only 
taste—one or more of the two score pleasant American 
concoctions, commencing with harmless sherry cobbler, 
or brandy cocktail, ending with brandy smash, or 
delirium tremens, the culminating drink of friendly 
association on the sea, ay, and on the land of America. 
At first I own that I evinced some delicacy in re¬ 
ceiving so many favours; moreover, a distaste to 
early potations induced me courteously to refuse such 
numerous offers of hospitality. I was, however, soon 
given to understand by some friendly passenger, by no 
means averse to these harmless drinks, as he termed 
them, that a refusal, however mild and courteous, 
would be construed into a disinclination to fraternize 

23 


354 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


with the people of a nation I was about, for the first 
time, to visit; and that if I took brandy cocktail 
with Jones before luncheon, Brown would be reason¬ 
ably offended if I refused to accept a mint julep before 
dinner; bitters gave an appetite, and ice was whole¬ 
some; so I gave in without further struggles, and 
submitted with calm resignation, begging that the ice 
and iced water, as necessary to the existence of an 
American as is bitter beer to young England, should 
form the larger portion of my potations. And so I 
got on most agreeably with all parties, while I am 
free to admit that, notwithstanding all these matutinal 
and diurnal drinks, I rarely saw anything approaching 
to inebriation ; and further experience on shore at the 
bar of every hotel—which simply implies a room set 
apart for newspaper-reading and exciting drinks, 
mixed with more or less taste and art, the principal 
portion of which is iced water—satisfied me that this 
“ taking drinks" is, after all, only a soothing national 
custom, leading rather to friendly association than 
evil habit, inasmuch as the very men who maybe seen 
hobnobbing at the bar at mid-day, rarely drink aught 
but water with their meals, very little wine or malt 
liquor being discussed, even in private houses, during 
dinner—a necessary absolutely difficult, if not impos¬ 
sible, to obtain when travelling. Moreover, it leads 
ofttimes to friendship and friendly associations : thus, 


AMERICAN DRINKS. 


355 


on being introduced to Mr. A. at the bar or public 
room of an hotel, he at once offers you his hand; and 
having courteously expressed his pleasure in making 
your acquaintance, he proffers you a cobbler or a cock¬ 
tail, as may be—that is, a drink—to seal the contract. 
After that, you are one. You swallow the drink, and, 
as it warms your heart inwardly, feel good-will to all 
men, your new friend in particular. 

The meals on board, though so constant, were good, 
abundant, well cooked, and well served to the minute 
—not weather permitting, but whatever the weather; 
fresh fish and fresh meat of the finest, fruit, and 
vegetables. The fish was for the most part soles, or 
fine turbot, and lobster sauce, which I believe I am 
not incorrect in stating was to be had from the day we 
left Ireland till that on which we blew off steam at 
New Jersey. Indeed, one passenger, after repletion, 
suo*o*ested he could live on board for ever, and was 
rather indignant at my proposing in preference even 
the most humble abode on Salisbury Plain. I have 
dwelt thus much on these little gastronomic comforts, 
in order that the many thousands who may henceforth 
cross the ofttimes troubled waters of the Atlantic, may 
at all events feel secure as to their creature comforts, 
and leave the rest to Providence. 

So much for comforts. Our discomforts, moderate 
as they were, are now all but over. The sky is 

23—2 


356 


THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 


cloudless, the sun as hot as July—in this the month 
of October—the sea calm, our voyage all but termi¬ 
nated. We have passed the dreaded fogs on the 
banks of Newfoundland with little interruption, but 
that little I shall ever remember. It was the Sabbath, 
and the passengers had for the most part gathered 
together in the saloon for prayer, very kindly and 
properly read by the captain, assisted by a missionary 
clergyman on board, when all at once we were startled 
from our propriety by a most unearthly sound, pro¬ 
ceeding, as it were, from the ship, nervously exciting 
the timid, and astonishing all save those accustomed 
to such unpleasant music. For my own part, I 
confess having believed that a gentle Alderney cow, 
which I had daily watched chewing the cud in peace, 
regardless of the ship’s tossing and rolling, and to 
whom we were indebted for a matutinal supply of 
fresh milk, had broken loose, and was bellowing on 
the deck; or that a steam-pipe had given way, and 
was howling to be mended. I was, however, speedily 
relieved from all anxiety by the amiable officer in 
charge of the mails, who stood by my side, and who 
in the most comic voice whispered into my ear, “ It is 
only the fog signal.” Only the fog signal!—only! 
If fogs on the Atlantic require to be scared away, or 
announced across the broad ocean by such hideous 
howlings, they must indeed be most unpleasant 


ARRIVAL OF THE PERSIA. 


357 


visitors. They are, I am told, not only unpleasant, 
but dangerous, hanging, as they do at times, for days 
together, dark and dismal, on these banks of New¬ 
foundland. Happily, however, our fog was a most 
courteous fog, just giving us time to imagine what an 
unwelcome visitor lie could be if he would; then 
clearing away, and leaving us under one of the bluest 
and clearest October skies I have ever beheld, with the 
thermometer standing at about 80 degrees in the 
sun. 

And now for the first time I behold in the far dis¬ 
tance the sandy shores of Long Island—the land of 
America; and great was the commotion on board. 
Faces hitherto downcast, beamed into brightness and 
smiles. A lady I had imagined to be dirty and ugly 
—excuse me; are ladies ever ugly ?—really appeared 
clean and good-looking; heads were bedecked with 
hats and feathers and bonnets of the last London and 
Parisian fashions; while one young lady—I could not 
help looking; who could, at the termination of a 
voyage (she was mounting on deck), and weather so 
fair ?—appeared in a pair of flesh—no, rose-coloured 
silk stockings, with buckled shoes, and a feather in 
her jaunty little hat, whose blueness rivalled the sky. 
Ah, what an influence on human nature has a rough 
or a calm sea ! Wide-awakes for the most part gave 
way to well-brushed beavers. Chapman, Locke, and 


o5S THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 

Christy paced the main deck; while hands, but re¬ 
cently without the power to use the matutinal soap, 
were encased in Jouvin gloves direct from Paris. 
Great, I say, was the commotion and general excite¬ 
ment, in which I confess in some measure to have 
joined. And I was soon pounced upon to subscribe to 
a lottery, one dollar each—the winner to stand a bowl 
of champagne cocktail to the losers—in which, of 
course, I drew a blank, but was consoled by the cock¬ 
tail, the prize being the number of the pilot, momen¬ 
tarily expected, of whom there are, I am told, twenty- 
four permitted to ply in these waters. This lottery 
filled, another excitable young gentleman suggested 
that I should bet him a brandy smash as to which 
foot the pilot first placed on board, which appeared to 
me to be the very essence of speculation; courtesy, 
however, and land in sight, compelled me to ac¬ 
quiesce. 

In fact, the excitement ran higher than the waves 
of the Atlantic. Was it not—is it not natural ? Two- 
thirds of the passengers were returning to their home 
—“ sweet home"—and families, after months, possibly 
years, of absence; some from visiting Europe and the 
Exhibition, a mere pleasure trip—others on business; 
some to denounce the ways, and modes, and manners, 
and gastronomy of France, England, Italy, and Ger¬ 
many—others to praise; but all coming “ home." 


THE NEW YORK PILOT. 


359 


And even those who, like me, were turning their backs 
on their fatherland, the land of the truly free—dear 
Old England, although unable to enter into the joys 
their companions anticipated, still, was not our rough 
voyage drawing to its close ? while new scenes of 
interest were opening to me, with those all but theirs 
to look forward to on my return. 

Behold, a small white sail looms on the horizon ; 
nearer and nearer it approaches, cutting through the 
calm blue sea, like a sea-gull impelled by a slight 
autumnal breeze. Nearer and nearer she comes; a 
smart, well-built schooner tacks fearlessly across the 
splendid bows, ranges along the starboard quarter. 
Down go the sails like magic, she hauls to, receives a 

/ t 

rope thrown from on board the Persia, and the pilot, 
with a bundle of papers under his arm, jumps on 
board (subsequently I was told his left foot first 
touched the deck), claimed and drank the brandy 
smash. All the passengers, and I really believe all 
the sailors, rushed to meet him, and I was left by the 
side of the cook, in a white paper cap, in calm con¬ 
templation of the scene. To him I appealed as to 
which was the pilot, or who was the individual dressed 
in a black surtout, well-brushed hat, and black un¬ 
mentionables to match, who was being crushed ; and, 
to my surprise, was informed that the gentleman in 
black was he. 


360 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


As the cook facetiously remarked, “ He looks like 
a parson, don't he, sir ?" I must confess the cook was 
not far wrong, as I certainly expected to see a fac¬ 
simile of our friends at Deal, who are by no means 
given to black surtouts and round hats. Meanwhile, 
the poor man was well-nigh hustled to death, and only 
made his escape from the throng of questioners, who 
were most naturally anxious for political and war 
news, by distributing the “ New York Herald,*' the 
“ World," and so forth, on all sides; while question 
after question met my ear, such as, “ Has there been 
a fight ?" u Has McClellan whipped the rebels ?" “ Is 
Harper's Ferry retaken ?" “ Is McClellan deposed ?" 
u Where is Burnside ?" and so forth. In the midst 
of this excitement, I was summoned below by a civil 
message from No. 14, who had won; and having 
witnessed the concoction of a bowl of champagne cock¬ 
tail, and imbibed a dollar share as a loser, I returned 
on deck, to behold the distant highlands of New 
Jersey, the beautiful and well-wooded Isle of Staten, 
with its numerous picturesque villas ; the light¬ 
house at the entrance of the splendid Bay of New 
York, more beautiful from the fine October weather; 
the strong Fort of Lafayette—alas ! what tales of 
sorrow and excitement could this detestable civil war 
call forth from its inmates ! Thence we elided on- 
wards through innumerable craft. The city of New 


NEW JERSEY. 


361 


York stood out grandly on our right, and we hauled 
alongside the pier of New Jersey. Friendly farewells 
took place, kind invitations were proffered; and many, 
who for ten days had sat at the same board, met each 
morning and bid each other good night in friendly 
association, parted to meet no more. 

At different periods of my life it has been my good 
fortune—at least such I am willing to believe it—to 
visit every capital in Europe, and I possibly may visit 
them again. With such feelings, finding myself at 
any one of them, I endeavour, as far as may be, 
though ofttimes a difficult task, to conform not only 
with the tastes and habits of the natives, but even to 
think in the language of the country—in fact I 
endeavour to forget bitter beer when in Italy, and 
fancy that garlic smells like a moss rose in Spain. I 
very soon practically ascertained, however, that all 
these virtues availed me nought in America. And 
although during the midnight hours of travel, as in 
the clear light of a mid-day sun, memory would 
bring me back—as what does not memory bring 
back?—the following beautiful lines from Rogers' 
“ Italy 

“ In a strange land, 

Kind things, however trivial, reach the heart. 

And, through the heart, the head; clearing away 
The narrow notions that grow up at home, 

And in their place grafting good-will to all— 


362 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


I found the theory, charming as it is, a very difficult 
one to realize in practice. In fact, to make matters 
clear, never did I place foot on foreign shore where it 
was so utterly beyond man's power either of discover¬ 
ing his own position or anyone else's; and day by 
day, as time went on, I felt more and more difficulty 
as to feeling, reasoning, and realizing America and 
Americans : and while no Englishman who has not 
travelled in the United States, whatever he may have 
read, by whomsoever written, can realize or form even 
a respectable judgment as regards the land or its inha¬ 
bitants, were I asked—which not seldom I have been 
—as to the termination of the war or the continuation 
of the war, or the character of any leading man, or 
the state of society, or the mode of concocting brandy 
cocktail, or gin sling, or delirium tremens, or a phlegm- 
cutter, or which was the best paper to read matuti- 
nally, or the best hotel to go to, I honestly confess that 
I should decline altogether to assert positively that 
anything was absolute. 

Solely that I never knew a public man who was 
not an angel to-day and a devil or a poltroon to¬ 
morrow. I never read a paper that I am not told 
that it scarcely contains a word of fact. I have never 
found an hotel, though all hotels are on the same 
principle, alike, or where the same servants remain a 
month. I never imbibed a cocktail or a mint julep of 


IN WASHINGTON. 


363 


similar taste or flavour; and as for society at New York, 
or at Washington, or Boston, or Baltimore—and I 
fancy I have enjoyed the cream—why, it is an enigma 
utterly beyond the power of man, so varied, full of 
kindness. That which is plain enough, as merely 
following the ordinary course of good breeding, in 
some things appears unnecessary, in others the very 
despotism of white neckcloths. But I will endeavour 
in brief detail hereafter to explain these truisms. 
Meanwhile, though I cling fondly to the patriot's 
boast— 

“ Where’er we roam, 

His first, best country ever is at home,” 

I unaffectedly, and with heartfelt gratitude, assert 
that no man, whatever his country or position, ever 
received more true hospitality, more genuine kindness 
than have I during a six months' residence in 
America, entirely from Americans. 

I am in Washington, the so-called capital of the 
United States, but a capital only in name; pleasantly 
situated on the banks of the Potomac—I fancy that 
is the correct term—not that I ever discovered the 
Potomac had any banks, save that they were face to 
face with the land leading to Fredericksburg, that 
land dyed with Federal blood ! There I have never 
ventured, solely that I might not go by the will of 
despotic powers so decided, being, as it was said, a 


364 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


'cute official from the land where the Alabama—that 
miserable but gallant Alabama—was built, and per¬ 
mitted to sail forth, certainly not by the will of those 
who govern England, as the terror of American 
Northern merchandize, and a positive bugbear as the 
destroyer of all digestive powers of those who desire 
to live at home in peace in the city of Washington or 
New York, or any other city, railway tavern, or 
steamboat in the States. By St. Hubert, I de¬ 
clared that if I ever possessed a race-horse I would 
christen him the Alabama, and run him to death for 
the Derby. But here is Washington, fresh to 
memory ; for but yesterday, as it were, I stood in the 
gilded saloon, the reception room of the White 
House, amid the most motley and unwashed crowd of 
individuals I ever beheld, desirous of one word with 
him* who then ruled the State by universal suffrage, 
yet with despotic sway utterly incomprehensible, and 
if by the will of God, as his Majesty of Prussia at this 
moment, I should imagine by any will but his own. 
As a president, however, if courtesy did not hold my 
pen, other reasons would ; and as a man all I can say 
is, he is one of the tallest and thinnest I ever beheld, 
having neither a soft voice nor a well-dressed head of 
hair; neither are his boots made to fit with that pre¬ 
cision that some desire. But there is character and 

* Since brutally murdered. 


OPINION OF THE CAPITAL. 


3G5 


will in his expression, and to judge from his manner 
he possessed a kind and Christian heart. 

Washington has been called the Citv of Distances : 
nay, more, I have heard many assert that when stand¬ 
ing on the Capitol heights the scene looked on was 
one of nature’s purest landscapes. I have looked on 
that scene when the clearest of blue skies has covered 
the vault of heaven, and the brightest of suns enlivened 
the scene : I have beheld it when the snowstorm has 
driven across the vale, causing the landscape to assi¬ 
milate with the feelings of every one who at this 
moment visits Washington; and I can only pronounce 
it to be a city which “ was to be,” but which <f is 
not,” without any charms either of position, or much 
beauty, a city of mud in midwinter time, of dust in 
midsummer time; and it is only by viewing it from 
the top of the Capitol that one can at all comprehend 
the doubtless magnificent designs of the projector. 
Spacious avenues of young trees, that commence with 
no effect, and lead to no result—streets without 
houses, unmacadamizcd, unpaved—mud and mire in 
winter time—great thoroughfares without ornament. 
In fact, Washington, although the selected seat of the 
Presidency and the Congress, is a mistake, at this 
moment a most miserable and painful mistake 
to behold : for what in the joyous days of peace 
and prosperity was, I am told, a cheerful abiding- 


366 THE queen’s messenger. 

place, with pleasant society, is a vast depot for mules 
and baggage waggons, political discord, speculation 
and falsehood, barefaced robbery, conflicting jea¬ 
lousies, and private interests. 

Few people would reside in Washington, I imagine, 
during this hour of civil strife, who were not called or 
detained there by some public duty or private necessity. 
And the diplomatic corps of all nations complain, and 
not without reason, of their lot. The Capitol is, no 
doubt, a fine building, of the Corinthian order, placed 
on a noble eminence; while the Post-office, the 
Patent-office, and the Treasury—three fine marble 
and stone buildings—form the sum total of the city. 
I never yet met with a traveller or a native who could 
give me any just description of Washington. Indeed 
it would be impossible, as it is ever changing, and yet 
never gets beyond the merest conglomeration of ill- 
built houses and stunted trees: dull, I should say, at 
all times ; but, almost within reach of the roar of can¬ 
non in civil contention, inexpressibly sad. 

From the balcony of the library of the Capitol, the 
view of the adjacent country, and the map of the ex¬ 
tended city, as it were, marked out below, is all 
worthy of detention for a day or two at Washington. 
And within the Congress Hall, which in my English 
home across the Atlantic I had dreamt of as con¬ 
taining unexampled patriots, endeavouring to correct 


PUBLIC BUILDINGS OF WASHINGTON. 367 


in the present era the vices of the past,—carrying out 
to the very letter the unanimous declaration of the 
States, which solemnly declares all men are created 
equal, and endowed by their Creator with unalien¬ 
able rights of liberty alike in the pursuit of happi¬ 
ness,—I found my dream an illusion, my ideal 
patriotism crushed and humiliated by the vilest per¬ 
version of political honesty. More I have no heart 
to say; for, though loving not America, there are 
many north and south, east and west, of that vast 
land with whom my heart dwells with the warmest 
feelings of esteem. 

But, for the moment, I must hasten from the 
capital “ which is/' to the city of New York, which 
“ ought to be.” I have scarcely words sufficiently 
expressive to explain the positive misery and disgust 
of this journey of scarce two hundred and fifty miles, 
in this the nineteenth century, in a country which 
can certainly lay just claims for not being behind 
the rest of mankind in works of art and industry, 
luxury and comfort. I admit, in the fullest sense 
of the words, that the New York and Washington 
Bailway—or I believe it more properly to be termed 
'the New York, Philadelphia, Baltimore, and Wash¬ 
ington line—is that par excellence used for a means 
of transit for troops, and armaments, and ammunition, 
and commissariat stores, in all and every kind; 


36 S 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


moreover, that by which the people of the United 
States, and all other states, at home and abroad, flock 
in countless numbers between the two cities, is de¬ 
testable. In fact, travel where you will, by day or 
night, there you are, cast in, as it were, among a 
motley crowd of politicians and place-hunters; women 
called ladies, and those who doubtless are ladies; 
drunken men in blue coats, miscalled soldiers, though 
some of them, physically, would vie with the world, 
who fight their battles o'er again with an excess of 
colouring distasteful to all around : but even this 
useless braggadocio would be endurable, if not intel¬ 
lectual or amusing, was their conversation not mixed 
up with a flow of the most blasphemous and disgust¬ 
ing language, and all this in the presence of females 
and respectable travellers, while individuals having the 
title, ay, and the unform of officers, sit by and listen 
without interfering; indeed, it has occurred that I 
have marked on their countenances, if not actual ap¬ 
proval, certainly amusement. If this be universal 
suffrage—if such public conduct on the highway 
mark the liberty of the subject—why, I honestly 
confess, I prefer the despotic comfort of Russia, and 
have not the slightest objection to the unrivalled 
luxury of a seat in one of the first-class carriages of 
the Great Western Railway in Old England. In 
America—that is to say, on American railways— 


AMERICAN RAILWAY TRAVELLING. 369 

there is no distinction of classes, neither is there any 
comfort. 

At one period, I fancy, when railways first com¬ 
menced to rush through the land, there was a car—as 
all the world knows their carriages to be so called— 
mere horse boxes, with paltry pictures to adorn their 
sides—set apart for the ladies ; other cars for white 
men, and a black man’s car. I have heard or read, I 
know not at the moment where, the difference de¬ 
scribed simply as the car in which no one smokes, and 
the cars in which every one smokes. 

These matters are somewhat changed. There is 
still a ladies’ car—not that it is in any manner re¬ 
served for ladies entirely. I have witnessed con¬ 
siderable spitting, heard considerable swearing, and 
smelt the smell of very indifferent cigars; but, if 
the ladies can endure it, and their lawful protectors 
submit, why should a stranger complain, if so be 
he has a hard board to sit on ? However, there 
is no longer a black man’s car—a sort of animal’s 
car—as, deny it who will, a black man is looked on 
as a mere animal, go where you will in the States, 
probably more so in the North than in the South ; 
and it is positively painful to an Englishman to 
watch the black man shrinking away to his corner 
in the car, as if that black breast did not cover a 
heart which acknowledges a Redeemer. 


24 


370 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER, 


Well, I say these American railways are odious—* 
not so much in their locomotion, not in their en¬ 
gineering department, but in their general misma¬ 
nagement and internal discomfort,—all arising out 
of the absurd notion that Jack is as good as his 
master; in fact, that highly-educated, high-bred, 
manly gentlemen, whose hearts beat with the finest 
and most unselfish emotions towards their fellow- 
creatures, ought to be treated as a drunken, dirty, 
heartless, immoral coward. 

All members of the higher and educated class in 
America—and I shall convince my readers by-and-by 
that there is a higher class, and a very noble and high¬ 
bred class, in America, notwithstanding the mistaken 
notions of liberty and equality—condemn the odious 
railway system of their country, and yet they travel 
b}^ these railways, and endure this system. 

For my own part, again and again have I 
gone from New York to Washington, and returned, 
in company with more than a thousand passengers of 
all classes; and in one night I have suffered more 
than I have in a journey from Warsaw to St. Peters¬ 
burg in midwinter, when railways as regards Russia 
only existed in imagination. 

The railway cars are scarcely more than horse¬ 
boxes, long stables, in fact, with a path down the 
centre, and hard seats at each side, to contain two, 


UNCOMFORTABLE RAILWAY CARS. 


371 


each compartment being possibly capable of holding 
sixty or a hundred persons. The pathway or passage 
down the centre is used principally for spitting and 
walking up and down, to the great annoyance of the 
passengers, also as a sort of promenade at each station 
—as, indeed, between all the stations—for sellers of 
apples, apple-tarts, peppermint lozenges which poison 
the air, and newspaper boys,—the doors, of which 
there is one at each end, to be slammed throughout 
the night by everyone who passes in and out, the last 
person always endeavouring to slam harder than his 
neighbours. These doors also admit currents of cold 
air in winter, by which many catch their death, and 
raise dust in summer, by which many are suffocated. 
Moreover, there is a centre or corner-stove; and the 
unhappy individual who may chance to obtain a place 
near it—and the cars are generally crammed—is 
roasted, while he who sits farthest from the stove and 
nearest the door is frozen. It was my unhappy lot to 
pass an hour near one of these stoves, when I observed 
the conductor—no, I beg his pardon, the conductor’s 
slave—arrive to heap wood on the fire. I implored 
his forbearance, naming to him in the most courteous 
terms the fact of my being done to a turn. “ Well,” 
says he, “ I calculates it was better to roast one than 
to freeze a hundred \” This was consoling. I cannot 
remember how I survived that night. It is as well, 

21—2 


372 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


when writing of the institutions of a foreign country, 
however, to get rid of all unpleasant matter at first, 
ere one revels in the sweets. Therefore, fearless of 
contradiction, I assert that, for the most part, 
American railways are odious, and none more so than 
that which crosses the Delaware' and the Susquehanna 
—between the capital and New York. 

Poverty, it is said, causes a man to meet with 
strange bedfellows; though I do not clearly understand 
the simile, however, I can answer for this fact, that 
a few journeys on an American railway, more par¬ 
ticularly at the period of which I write, will bring you 
in contact with characters which, if cleverly delineated, 
would surpass the creations of any romance hitherto 
published. For my part, I encountered a few 
specimens, totally different characters, whose virtues 
I desire should not be withheld from the world. I 
will be brief. The one was an Irish soldier, on his 
way home from the lamentable “ affair "—that is the 
word—at Fredericksburg; somehow or another, I 
suppose, he was on the move homeward at the time. 
He had been hit slightly in the shoulder, in the rear, 
as were many other poor fellows on their way home 
across the Potomac on that “ untoward" day. Some¬ 
how or another—doubtless in the very excusable joy 
of getting out of such an affair, and subsequently into 
a railway-car on his way home—he managed to get 


A DRUNKEN TRAVELLER. 


373 


drunk also; and having- taken my knees for a seat, 
he deliberately placed himself thereon, encircling- my 
neck with his left arm, while with his right he 
flourished a goodly-sized bottle, from which he pro¬ 
posed I should take a drink. It was very desirable, 
as I had papers about me of some value, that I should 
live on good terms with my fellow-passengers; and a 
drunken Irishman, whose father was from Tipperary, 
and whose mother was a German, was by no means a 
person to offend, particularly when returning from 
the wars, with a shot in the rear of his left shoulder, 
and a bottle of Bourbon whiskey in his hand. So he 
having wiped the mouth of the bottle with his sleeve, 
and I with my handkerchief, I took a slight drink, 
gently removed him from my knee, and we conversed 
very pleasantly, as, of course, a drunken and sober 
man generally do; and then, finding I was an 
Engli shman, he turned deliberately round, and having 
expressed his pleasure at our meeting, he politely 
informed me that, having whipped the rebels—and 
Mr. Seward had settled they should be whipped in 
sixty days—the Irish Brigade intended to whip Eng¬ 
land. “Half the army of England are Irish,” said 
he, “and I guess they will all come over, to a man; 
and then, by the powers, [ calculate old Ireland will 
be free as 'Meriky.” This mixed breed of half Irish, 
half American, half everything—men who certainly 


374 


THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 


have made the railways and built big houses, are 
nevertheless the very scum of the earth ; and from 
such as these are echoed across the Atlantic all those 
vile and bitter taunts against England and the 
English, which never have had any existence in the 
minds of well-educated and right-hearted Americans. 

The next friend I encountered on the line between 
Washington and New York was a butcher by trade— 
a contractor, in fact, for beef for the army of the 
Potomac,—a tolerably good position, I take it. The 
lean beef he had converted into green-backs, doubt¬ 
less would have half covered the Broadway at New 
York. He kindly gave me much information touching 
the Northern army, for which I was grateful. He 
had been with that army, as a looker-on, in some of 
those battles,—which he compared, and fully believed 
—and most heartily do I forgive him—equal to, if 
not surpassing, those of Waterloo and Blenheim, 
Inkermann and Solferino. And then he asked me to 
dinner, and promised me a first-rate sirloin and a 
first-rate bottle of wine, in both of which he would 
have kept his word. And I really regretted that 
circumstances did not permit my accepting his 
hospitality. And then came out the true Yankee 
character. 

“You have seen New York?” he remarked. 

“ Every part of it,” I replied. 


THE YANKEE BUTCHER. 


375 


“Well, I take it, it whips all the cities of the 
world, don't it ? I calculate there's no mistake about 
that." 

“Well," I added, “the Broadway is a fine com¬ 
mercial street; and the rapidity with which, in a few 
short years, the fine houses in the Fifth Avenue 
have been erected, and the admirable plan in 
which the central park has been laid out, are very 
effective." 

“ I guess you're right," said he. “ As a city, it 
whips the whole world." 

And yet this man assured me, save that he had 
passed Philadelphia, Baltimore, and Washington, on 
his way to the army of the North, he had never seen 
any other town in his life. 

But my third and last companion was by far the 
most intelligent and amusing. Who he was or what 
he is, I found it impossible to discover. All I know 
is, he caused me an hour or two of intense amuse¬ 
ment. He was neither what could be termed a gen¬ 
tleman, nor a soldier, nor a sailor, nor a merchant, nor 
aught else; but his flow of language, knowledge of 
passing events, and wit, caused me, as I have said, 
hours of laughter, and on my leaving, he handed me 
the following most graphic specimen of his literary 
and poetical powers, or those of some one else—known, 
possibly, but not to me :— 


376 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 

“ THE NEUTRAL ENGLISH GENTLEMAN. 


“ Encrusted in liis island home that lies beyond the sea, 

Behold the great original and genuine ‘ ’Tis He 
A paunchy, fuming son of beef, with double weight of chin, 
And eyes that were benevolent, but for their singular tend¬ 
ency to turn green whenever it is remarked that 
his irrepressible American cousins have made an¬ 
other treaty with China ahead of him, and taken 
Albion in,— 

This neutral English gentleman, one of the modern time. 

“ With William, Duke of Normandy, his ancestors, he boasts. 
Came over from the shores of Erance to whip the Saxon hosts; 
And this he makes a source of pride; but wherefore there 
should be 

Such credit to an Englishman in the fact, that he is descend¬ 
ed from a nation which England is for ever pretend¬ 
ing to regard as slightly her inferior in everything, 
and particularly behind her in military and naval 
affairs, we cannot really see,— 

This neutral English gentleman, one of the modern time. 

“ He deals in Christianity—Episcopalian brand. 

And sends his missionaries forth to bully heathen land; 

Just mention ‘ slavery 5 to him, and, with a joyous sigh. 

He’ll say it’s ’orrid, scandalous, although he is ready to fight 
for the cotton raised by slaves, and forgets how he 
bothered the Chinese to make them take opium ; 
and blew the Sepoys from the guns, because the 
poor devils refused to be enslaved by the East In¬ 
dia Company, or his phi-lan-thro-py,— 

This neutral English gentleman, one of the modern time. 

“ He yields to brother Jonathan a love that passeth show, 

‘ We’re Hanglo-Saxons, both of us, and can’t be foes, you know;’' 


377 


a Yankee's song. 

But as a Christian gentleman, lie cannot, cannot hide 
His horror of the spectacle, of four millions of black beings 
being held in bondage by a nation professing the 
largest liberty in the world; though in case of an 
anti-slavery crusade, the interest of his Manches¬ 
ter factors would imperatively forbid him to take 
part on either side,— 

This neutral English gentleman, one of the modern time. 

“ Now seeing the said Jonathan by base rebellion stirr’d, 

And battling with pro-slavery, it might be thence inferr’d 
That British sympathy is labell’d * Neutral¬ 
ity, 5 and consigned to any rebel port not too close¬ 
ly blockaded to permit English vessels loaded with 
munitions to slip in. And when you ask Mr. Bull 
what he means by his inconsistent conduct, he be¬ 
comes notoriously indignant, rolls up his eyes, and 
says, £ I can’t endure to see brothers murdering 
each other, and keeping me out of my cotton,—1 
can’t, upon my life,’— 

This neutral British gentleman, one of the modern time. 

“ Supposing Mr. Bull should die, the question might arise. 

Will he be wanted down below, or wafted to the skies ? 
Allowing that he had his choice, it really seems to me. 

The moral English gentleman would choose a front seat with 
his Infernal Majesty ; since Milton, in his blank 
verse correspondence with old Time, more than 
once hinted the possibility of Nick’s rebellion 
against Heaven succeeding. And as the Lower Se- 
cessia has cottoned to England through numerous 
Hanoverian reigns, such a choice on the part of the 
philanthropical Britisher would be simply another 
specimen of his Neutral-i-ty,— 

The neutral British gentleman, one of the modern time.’ 


378 


THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 


I am located at the Clarendon Hotel. So, for the 
"benefit of those who may chance to follow in my 
footsteps and visit the States, whether on duty 
or pleasure, let us mildly discuss the question of 
hotels ; it is a very serious question, believe me, to all 
travellers, both mentally and physically, externally 
and internally. I know people differ greatly as regards 
their appreciation of these necessary locations to the 
wanderer’s comfort: some prefer the lively, bustling, 
and cheap; others affect the quiet, gastronomic, and 
moderate; a third looks to fashion, the most incom¬ 
prehensible word—to me, at least,—which I know to 
exist. Were I asked before the Civil Service exami¬ 
ners—and I wonder they do not ask the question, for 
their own benefit, as well as that of the untravelled 
world at large—where I have found the best hotels— 
which superlative “best” I understand to embrace 
cleanliness, comfort, quiet, and above all, first-rate 
gastronomy, combined with moderate charges—I 
should say in Switzerland and in New York; the 
latter without the moderate charges, inasmuch as in 
desiring to drink anything but iced water—and man 
cannot live on iced water—that which otherwise 
would be moderate becomes unpleasantly extravagant. 
And ere I go further on this subject, permit me to 
explain by the word gastronomy I infer the possession 
of a cook—I care not of what nation—who can 


NEW YOEK HOTELS. 


379 


prepare a simple repast for the lover of simplicity, or 
a rich repast for a lover of grease; in fact, ail artist 
who performs his art in accordance with public tastes 
—as a cook should perform it. 

Well, the hotels at New York are numerous, far 
too numerous to mention here. I shall, therefore, only 
select a few. There are the enormous and bustling. 
These are named, if I am not incorrect, the Fifth 
Avenue and St. Nicholas. Enormous indeed are they; 
to speak positively as to the number of beds they 
make up, would be in vain. I fancy five hundred, at 
least, would be within the mark. On occasions, sofas, 
tables, &e., coming into aid, add a hundred more. 
The first is the fashion; its location is fashionable. 
The second, midway in the Broadway, is more com¬ 
mercial—in fact, its visitors are, or would be, in any 
other country, mixed, but in America all are gentle¬ 
men. Doubtless it would also be considered fashion¬ 
able : I only write as I feel individually. 

Then we have the Clarendon and the Prevorst; 
these are smaller, and unquestionably may be con¬ 
sidered aristocratic—a better word, as I read it, than 
fashionable—and the Everett House, a shade, only a 
shade, lower; and the New York, said to be a 
Southern house; and a host of others. 

At the Fifth Avenue the traveller is allowed to spit 
and smoke as he walks up and down the vast corridor. 


380 


THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 


or entrance hall; at the St. Nicholas, I believe, the 
same process is permitted, if not in the corridor leading 
into the Broadway. At each house you may dine with 
three or four hundred companions daily, or in your 
private room. You may breakfast, and sup, and 
lunch, for an average charge of three dollars a day— 
previous to the war, less. This, however, be it observed, 
by no means includes extras, such as cocktail and 
sling, cigars, iced champagne, soda water, and brandy 
*—all mere necessaries to a respectable New Yorker, to 
which may not seldom be added a bottle of Croton 
water matutinally—a combination cf Bochelle salts 
and magnesia, with the same effect on the inward 
man. 

On my first arrival at New York, I confess to hav¬ 
ing had a strong belief in the necessity, if I required 
nourishment, of attending the public meals to the 
moment; and that if I failed to do so, little chance 
would remain as to my hunger being satisfied: in 
fact, I truthfully assert, I believed that breakfast and 
dinner were mere scrambling affairs—the first come, 
the first served; take what you can, or get what you 
can. But at the Clarendon Hotel, in which I resided 
six months, and the Prevorst, where I frequently 
dined, and where, as there is no public table, the 
traveller is not compelled to pay for what he does not 
eat, I own to having been most agreeably surprised. 


DINING IN NEW YOKK. 


381 


The meals were not only regular and abundant—in 
fact, unnecessarily abundant, but the gastronomical 
art displayed by Monsieur Baptiste, the French cook, 
was equal, if not superior to any hotel cooking I ever 
met with in any part of Europe. The table was most 
comfortable—I might almost say elegant; and as for 
the necessity of sitting down to the moment, or any¬ 
thing approaching to vulgarity or ill-breeding, or 
want of due attention to the courtesies of life, I never 
discovered it; the attendance, moreover, was good, 
and I may name, for the curious in such matters, that 
breakfast was served from eight till eleven ; luncheon 
from one to two; dinner, half-past five; tea, eight; 
supper from nine till twelve. And here let me add 
the bill of fare for a dinner; it will serve in a great 
measure to explain what was the nature of the other 
meals which preceded or followed it:— 

SOUP. 

Okra aux Toraates. 

PISH. 

Baked Blackfish, a ITtalienne. 

BOILED. 

Corned Beef and cabbage; Leg of Mutton, caper sauce; Chicken, 
parsley sauce. 

BOAST. 

Beef; Pork, apple sauce; Chickens. 

Boned Capon aux truffes; Cold Ham; Cold Tongue; May¬ 
onnaise de Volaille; Lobsters, Plain. 



382 


THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 


ENTREES. 

Perdreaux, bardes, braises, au celeri, au jus; Jeune Poulet 
saute, a la Marengo ; Crabs, farcies, a la provenfale; Hachis de 
blanc de Dinde, h la creme; Tete de Yeau, en tortue, aux 
quenelles ; Ivari de Tendrons d’Agneau, a l’lndienne ; Croquettes 
de Pis de Yeau aux fines herbes; Macaroni, au fromage, aux 
tomates; Beignets de Pommes, glaces, a la cannelle. 

RELISHES. 

Cucumbers ; Pickles; Horseradish; Beets ; Worcestershire 
Sauce; Lettuce. 

VEGETABLES. 

Baked Mashed Potatoes ; Mashed Potatoes ; Boiled Potatoes; 
Baked Sweet Potatoes ; Boiled Bice ; Squash; Onions ; Turnips; 
Beets; Pried Egg Plant; Cauliflower; Stewed Tomatoes. 

PASTRY. 

Biscuit Pudding; Quince Pie; Prussian Cake; Meringues a 
la rose ; Yanilla Ice Cream. 

DESSERT. 

Almonds; Raisins; Prunes; Apples ; Oranges; Pecan Nuts; 
Coffee. 

I own that the precocity of the children admitted 
to these meals—varying from six to fourteen years of 
age, an age in Old England that would have found 
them in the nursery—as well as their appetites, did 
at times surprise and alarm me, as regards their 
juvenile digestion and future career in life; particularly 
at breakfast, when in the coolest possible manner they 
would possess themselves of the bill of fare, and select 
half a dozen dishes, commencing with stewed oysters, 


THE CLARENDON HOTEL. 


38a 


and ending with beefsteak. Their parents permitted 
it, however, who had the right to interfere; certain!)' 
not I. I write only in simple truth of the modes and 
manners of Yankee youth. 

In fact, as far as the Clarendon Hotel, New York, 
is concerned—with the exception of various youths 
called chamber boys, who generally sat on a form in 
the vestibule when they were wanted, and rushed 
about the house when they were not wanted—an un¬ 
explainable species of the German-Irish class, whom 
no words of kindness could attract; in fact, whose 
thoughts dwelt wholly and solely on green-backs, and 
a night out to spend them ; and who, with a laudable 
desire to better themselves, were for ever changing; 
the consequence being that you have to encounter a 
strange face with vour shaving water three times a 

O k* o 

week, and a determination in every new attendant 
never to clean your boots properly, or bring them 
beyond the threshold of your apartment—I hold that, 
with this one exception, he who finds himself located 
at the Clarendon, if he be a reasonable man, will pro¬ 
nounce himself well satisfied. The other principal 
hotels of New York are on a similar scale and plan, 
though possibly not so quiet, unless it be the Prevorst 
House. 

The theatres at New York, as elsewhere, appear to 
me absolutely necessary appendages to the hotels. 


3S4 THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 

Moreover, what would young Americans do during 
the long 1 winter evenings without some excitement or 
sensation ? They cannot always smoke, they cannot 
for ever drink cocktails. Do they read much ? I fancy 
not. Do they love the peace and quietness of home 
—our blessed English homes ? I fancy not. I speak 
of the young and bachelor class. Well, they must do 
something to pass time. Sensation or excitement is 
as necessary to them as their daily bread. Perhaps it 
is the nature of their education, or their tastes, or the 
■climate; hut thus it is. So, dinner being over, and 
the absolutely necessary cigar smoked, they rush to 
the theatres, or operas, or the clubs, or who knows 
where, till the midnight hour approaches, and another 
eigar is necessary—positively required—ere they lie 
down to await the coming of another day. And what 
is more—as far as I could judge—they never seemed 
to be in want of the means to gratify all these little 
recreations. 

I am speaking more particularly of the dwellers in 
hotels: in private houses, in many of which I was 
received with untold kindness, there appeared to me 
much of the happy associations of the home circle; 
but as regards the married men who live in hotels— 
and hotels in New York are used as winter residences 
during the season by a large class of the community 
—why, they do, as it appeared to me—with rare ex- 


NEW YORK THEATRES. 


385 


ceptions—pretty much the same as bachelors. They 
go, with or without their car a sjoosas , to the theatres 
and operas, often finishing up the night with a nice 
little champagne supper at Delmonico’s ortheMaison 
Doree—of which fashionable restaurants I shall here¬ 
after speak—and then to bed. 

There are many theatres at New York, and various 
other places—so called—of amusement, commencing 
with the opera, terminating with Wood's and Christy's 
Minstrels—gentlemen artiste, with their faces painted 
black, and possessing considerable theatrical talent. 
Whether the original so-called Christy’s Minstrels are, 
for the moment I write, in London, New York, Bos¬ 
ton, or Baltimore, who dare say? They appear to me 
to turn up in every capital in Europe. • 

The Opera—at least, in my opinion—is a remark¬ 
ably fine and cheerful house, well built, tastefully deco¬ 
rated, well lighted, roomy and airy, elegant and effective, 
possibly not quite so large or so attractive as Covent 
Garden, but in all respects suitable to New Y r ork. A 
few of the largest and handsomest boxes are enclosed, 
like ours. These, for the most part, are the property 
of, and are occupied—I say it spite of republicanism 
—by, the aristocratic or highest (if you like it better, 
say the richest), but certainly the best bred and best 
educated, class.* All the other boxes are also private, 
that is to say, although the body of the house is open 


386 


THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 


to the view of all, each box is divided from the other, 
containing four or five persons, as may be. There are 
also reserved stalls and the pit. But all who attend 
have, as the Scotch would say, a self-contained arm¬ 
chair. The price of entry is not dear—one dollar for 
the pit, a dollar and a-half for the reserved stalls: the 
boxes vary in price, according to size and position, 
whether taken for the season or the night. All is 
quiet and orderly, and well regulated; and when one 
looks on the elegant, nay, at times splendid, dresses of 
the fairer class—and fair indeed, if not lasting, is 
American beauty — and the white neckcloths and 
Jouvin gloves of the republican manhood, it is very 
difficult to believe that universal suffrage exists and 
rules the land. 

Having touched on vocal amusement or sensations, 
let us speak of comedy, farce, and tragedy. I select 
the pleasant theatre called Wallack’s, par excellence, 
as a model theatre. In no capital have I seen a theatre 
where there is such uniform good acting, such comfort, 
or such thorough order for the spectator, as at Wal¬ 
laces. In fact, it may be called a sort of aristocratic 
after-dinner lounge, where the digestive powers of 
man gain health and strength in calm repose, under 
the pleasant excitement of inward laughter, and a re¬ 
pletion of undisturbed amusement. This house is not 
large, but airy and elegant; filled each night by an 


WALLACE’S THEATRE. 


387 


audience that possibly no other country in the world 
could produce—understand me, I mean for decorum 
and thorough enjoyment of the abundant amusement 
and admirable acting which the outlay of a dollar has 
afforded them. This house, if I am not in error, was the 
private property of Mr. Wallack, sen., lately deceased; 
built by him and owned by him—Mr. Wallack, so well 
known and appreciated many years ago in England. 

Then we have the Winter Garden, Niblo’s, and 
others,—even to the theatres of Bowery, which I con¬ 
fess to never having entered; nevertheless, all more 
or less good in their way, and suited to the general 
tenor of their audiences. 

I will end this brief theatrical notice with the 
black-skinned, black-faced minstrels’ most talented 
and amusing additions to the craving for excitement 
which exists under the mid-day sun as the midnight 
moon in the bustling city of New York. I have 
dwelt on the pleasant side of the picture, while others 
have written of prisons, and penitentiaries, and poor- 
houses, because the readers of periodicals may some¬ 
times prefer the practical and pleasant to the practical 
and sad : nevertheless, there is much of sadness, much 
of sin, much of sorrow in this ever-changing city. 
Yet, even with the bitter consequences of a terrible 
civil war knocking hourly, as it were, at their doors, 
making desolate the hearths and hearts of thousands, 


388 


THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 


pleasure and excitement go hand in hand on their 
onward course, regardless of all else. The theatres 
are nightly filled, and the waiters of Delmonico s 
and the Maison Doree sleep with their eyes open, if 
they ever sleep at all, during the long hours of the 
winter nights; simply that opera or theatre being 
over, agreeable little suppers ofttimes follow, and these 
restaurants are inferior to few I have met with at 
Paris. 

To speak of the society of a city in which for 
months I have mixed, is a difficult task. The earnest 
desire not to offend by a truthful yet ofttimes un¬ 
pleasant remark, and the thousand thoughts which 
crowd on the mind when looking into homes where 
you may have been kindly and warmly welcomed, and 
hospitably entertained, is a delicate and apparently 
ungracious task; yet while no names are mentioned, 
no confidence broken, a reference to the general tone 
of society, in any nation or city, is the province of all 
to write and all to read, who desire to live and learn. 

Well, to return to the society of New York :—I 
unaffectedly and truthfully own that I never thought 
that any place so new to me, so far away from home 
feelings and home associations, could ever dwell on 
my mind with the crowd of affectionate sentiments 
that cluster round my heart as I write these lines, 
engendered solely from the unexampled kindness and 


NEW YORK SOCIETY. 


389 


constant hospitality I have received. I honestly con¬ 
fess there are those in this city whose society and 
friendship would brighten to me the darkest winter's 
day. Stranger as I came among them, in sickness as 
in health, I have met with nothing hut unselfish 
courtesy and unremitting kindness; and as far as I 
am individually concerned, among those with whom 
I associated, though many a pleasant argument has 
occurred in conversation, I never recollect hearing a 
bitter, or ill-bred, or unfeeling word having reference 
to England uttered by an American. That such feel¬ 
ings may possibly—nay, do exist, I doubt not. Such 
sentiments are, however, to be found only in the 
minority, and that minority is not among the higher 
and educated class. I have made use of this term 
higher class, and that when speaking of a country 
where we are led to believe there exists no such divi¬ 
sion in society, inasmuch as it not only does exist, but 
is as apparent as the line drawn between the dwellers 
in Belgravia and Whitechapel; and such must and 
will ever be the case in all communities and all coun¬ 
tries, let their government be republican, or despotic, 
or constitutional. Place twenty men on a barren 
island, and see if a month elapses ere some one among 
the score does not assert himself as the superior of the 
other remaining nineteen. And I for one venture 
boldly to assert that there are few societies in any 


390 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


European country where more simple and generous 
hospitality abounds, where it is offered more cordially 
to a stranger, if he deserve it, and where less is ex¬ 
pected in return. 

A stranger, on visiting England—that is to say, 
London—would possibly be told, and not incorrectly 
told, that the dwellings of the aristocracy were for 
the most part clustered in the neighbourhood of Bel¬ 
gravia ; though of course there are equally aristocratic 
resting-places in the Great Babylon. And at New 
York, on somewhat similar grounds, though not with 
equal justice, the Fifth Avenue, or Madison Square, 
would be pointed out. Now it is perfectly true that 
the homes of the richest are to be found in these 
localities, and it is equally true that few handsomer 
houses exist in New York. Yet I fancy the majority 
of the dwellers therein claim their position somewhat 
more on the account of wealth, at times only tem¬ 
porarily possessed, than from any sounder position, 
though, of course, there are bright excejAions. And 
I own to having discovered, during a residence of six 
months in the modern city, many families who lived 
far from these fashionable purlieus, whose unaffected 
hospitality, high mental cultivation, and knowledge 
of foreign lands, would have given them precedence 
in any capital in Europe. It is, however, scarcely 
necessary that I should remark that the society of 


AMERICAN WOMEN. 


391 


New York is purely commercial. No man appears to 
be without occupation; consequently the father of 
families, who receive you so kindly, courteously, and 
hospitably at their tables at six or seven in the evening 1 , 
are invisible save in their offices during the day. The 
ladies also, unless you are intimate with the family, 
being in the habit of setting apart a day for the 
reception of their friends, are almost equally unap- 
proachable in the daytime. But you may call on the 
chance of finding them at home in the evening, and 
then you are ever welcome. 

I own that when I first arrived in New York, I felt 
somewhat sensitive as regards the continual kind ex¬ 
pressions that Mr. So-and-So would be most happy 
to see me at his house, or in his opera-box, or at his 
office. But Mr. So-and-So never called on me, never 
left his card, as is the custom of our native land 
among those who desire to become acquainted. I 
soon, however, discovered that the gentlemaifs time 
was far too valuable to lose a whole morning in gad¬ 
ding after me, and that it was the same with all my 
acquaintance, but that what they said they meant. 

The women of New York are, with rare exceptions, 
fair and well dressed ; the younger ones are possibly 
more forward in manner and appearance than their 
years would guarantee, nevertheless wanting neither 
in charm of manner nor of person. The climate must 


392 


THE QUEEN’S MESSENGElt. 


answer for the rest. The men I found to be well- 
informed, generous, and kind. 

Baltimore is ,par excellence, a city for gastronomical 
indulgence, which doubtless causes human nature to 
be thirsty. Thus the idea that every one else, come 
from whence he may, should be thirsty also, creates a 
never-ending taste for champagne and claret with 
these gastronomic pastimes, and a national habit, or 
rather, say, exciting desire for cocktails, at all times. 
These little internal recreations by no means neces¬ 
sarily lead to inebriation or excess. Moreover, they 
are offered, as are all the courtesies of life, with such 
hearty good will, that it is necessary for the stranger 
to be careful. The general tone of Baltimore society 
is, notwithstanding these—say, if you will—hospi¬ 
talities, more exciting, but not so jealous as that of 
New York; but it is not less agreeable or open- 
handed. 

"While the good people of Boston—older, possibly, 
in the courteous habits of life than either of the 
former cities, blend all their virtues and their faults 
into a subdued form of hearty good-fellowship and 
hospitality. 

As a general rule, royal messengers are not sent 
out of Europe; but I can never regret having visited 
America. 


CHAPTER XXIY. 


A VISIT TO DEN31 AUK—DEPARTURE DURING THE SCHLESWIG-HOL¬ 
STEIN WAR—THE STATE OP THE COUNTRY—HOW I REACHED 
IT—FROM BERLIN TO LUBECK—ON BOARD A CROWDED STEAMER 
— A MIDNIGHT ALARM—SW r EDISII BEEFSTEAKS—A NIGHT OF 
MISERY — COPENHAGEN—THE HOTELS—THE PEOPLE — THE 
DEVIL’S ISLAND—THE HOUSES AND SHOPS—STREET ARCHI¬ 
TECTURE—THE HARBOUR—DANISH HOSPITALITY—SIGHTS OF 
THE DANISH CAPITAL—CONCLUSION. 

I commenced these pages in the capital of Sweden; 
let me end them in that of its neighbour, Denmark. 

I do not believe there is a subject of Queen Victoria 
whose heart beats true English, who is not interested 
in the happiness and welfare of her royal son, whom, 
God permit, may live to reign over us; and,having such 
feelings towards him, they lead us on to Denmark and 
Copenhagen, with its delicious cherry-brandy—said 
to be made almost entirely for the English market 
—the country and birth-place of her whom he loves 
best, and which all the fictitious glory and victories 
and stars and garters, and beer drinkings over German 
valour under the Linden, as in the five thousand beer 


394 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER, 


shops of the Prussian capital, will not deprive of its 
interest in English hearts. Heigho ! what a miserable 
journey was my last to Denmark ! Thanks to these 
beer-drinkers, whose legions were pressing on to the 
capture of Diippel, peaceful men were compelled to 
take a circular route to the city of Copenhagen. 
Arrived there, how sad were the faces of the inhabi¬ 
tants ; in other days, as it is to be hoped they will 

be again, so cheerful, always so hospitable. Indeed, it 

% 

has ever appeared to me strange, still more so in the 
days we live in, that those who seek continual recrea¬ 
tions—steaming down the Rhone, and up the Rhine, 
scrambling to the top of Swiss mountains, to see the 
sun rise, or the sun set, which they rarely do see year 
after year,—should never change, or extend their route 
to the battle-fields of Denmark, and pass a week in 
the city of Copenhagen. The gardens and parks are 
charming; the bathing most exhilarating; so is the 
tc cherry brandy.” The hotels are very clean, and 
tolerably moderate; the city is clean and interesting; 
and the inhabitants kind and polite. In ordinary 
times, Copenhagen being my ultimate object, I should 
have gone to Hamburg, whence in fine weather a 
journey to the capital of Denmark, in these days of 
rail and steam, is very easily accomplished. But it was 
not in ordinary times that I last ventured on Danish 
land, but during that unfavourable period, when two 


LUBECK. 


395 


large armies were marching against the forts of Diippel, 
determined to force an entrance against a very small 
army, which, of course, they effected. Not wishing 
to he handed over to this corps de garde, whether 
Prussian or Austrian, though neither on warlike or 
commercial objects intent, and possibly imprisoned as 
a spy, or starved for want of food, I travelled peace¬ 
fully to the capital called Berlin, and thence made my 
way to Lubeck, a quaint old town, pleasantly situated, 
with good accommodation for man and beast, on the 
banks of the Trave. 

It was, however, not quite so easy, or so pleasant a 
journey as I had anticipated, though the distance 
from the beer-loving city is not great, and a railway 
runs direct—such, at least, I believed to be the fact, 
and paid my fare accordingly—but, alas, about mid¬ 
night I was roused from a sound slumber, with scarcelv 
time to get rid of the indigestive effects of a table 
d’hote dinner at Berlin, and left with my belongings 
and a fellow traveller on a station platform, not suc¬ 
ceeding till after considerable knocking and bawling, 
in words scarcely acceptable to ears polite, in even 
attaining the shelter of the buffet, and the light of a 
miserable small oil lamp, in which we were compelled 
to while away the time on a hard bench, till daylight 
did appear, and a train came up from Hamburg to 
carry us on to Lubeck, where I was fortunate in 


396 


TIIE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


finding a steamer about to start for Malmo ; this, of 
course, meant Copenhagen, to those who sought that 
city, otherwise the Prussian or Austrian cruisers 
might have pounced upon us. Never shall I forget 
that night of early spring time. In the first place 
the vessel was so crowded with human beings, that to 
obtain a berth for love or money was out of the ques¬ 
tion, and the passengers of all ranks and callings were 
soon huddled together, whether first-class or second- 
class, men, women, and children—all anxious to obtain 
what appeared to me beefsteak; at least, such the 
sodden pieces of meal were termed, with flankings of 
bread and butter; in fact, I do not ever recollect, or 
ever judged it possible that such an amount of bread 
and butter could be consumed in one night, even by 
a regiment of hungry soldiers. If the boat, however, 
was crowded with passengers, their number bore no 
comparison to the amount of their belongings, which 
were piled on the deck half mast high on the small 
craft which Was to bear us to the Swedish coast. 
Subsequently I was informed, that half the passengers 
were Danish officials, returning to their homes, and 
as most of them were married men with families, it 
may be readily conceived how great the proportion of 
babies, children, nurses, and squalling, we had to 
endure. Indeed, we had scarcely steamed out the river, 
which led to the open sea, ere I repented of having 
trusted—-not my own person, but the charge I bore— 


AN OVERCROWDED STEAMER. 


897 


in so frail a bark; happily, however, most happily, the 
night was calm, ancl ere we had reached the ocean, a 
ton of bread and butter, raw salmon and pickled 
gooseberries, having been consumed, and all the beer 
demolished, we settled down in some sort of order, 
and the waiters or stewards, or I should rather say 
stewardesses—for not a male servant appeared in the 
cabin, the passengers having been waited on entirely 
by clean and active women, while a lady of some im¬ 
portance superintended the buffet, from which issued 
the innumerable portions of bread, butter, beef, and 
ham—managed, how I can scarcely tell, to arrange 
a shakedown for every one. True, some slept 
or tried to sleep on the table, some under it, 
while others were huddled on the floor : the com¬ 
bination of chattering, snoring, with an occasional 
infantine squall from time to time, as a relief to the 
general uproar, was fearful. A sort of berth fell to my 
lot, about 6 feet long by 2 broad, a shelf, in fact; but. 
I wrapped my fur cloak around me, and contrived to 
rest for an hour or two. About midnight, however, 
I was awoke by the sound of rushing waters, and 
terrific female screams, and starting up beheld a 
scene which years cannot efface. At the first moment 
I really imagined the vessel was sinking; but reason 
coming to my aid, I soon discovered the fact to be 
simplyooccasioned by the negligence of some persons 
of course unknown, who, in order to give air to the 


39S THE queen’s messenger. 

numerous passengers confined in very limited cabins, 
had left two or more port-holes open, alike in the main 
cabin as in the ladies* cabin, and the vessel giving a 
sudden lurch, buckets of water poured into the berths. 
Women and children were suddenly awakened from 
their slumbers, and half-drowned by the rushing 
waters. I have no hesitation in adding that if the 
weather had been rough, which happily it was not,, 
that matters might have been serious; for had not 
the vessel foundered, the enormous quantities of lug¬ 
gage heaped on the main deck must have been cast 
into the sea. As it was, when the cause of our dis¬ 
aster was discovered, the port-holes closed, and the 
fears of the ladies calmed, matters became sufficiently 
ludicrous to excite laughter instead of tears. For 
many of the female passengers—fat and thin, young 
and old—in their terror utterly regardless of the pre¬ 
sence of the crowd of the sterner sex, and doubtless 
totally unconscious of their dishabille, had rushed into 
the main cabin screaming and crying. But let me draw 
down the curtain. Before or since I never witnessed 
so many ladies, old and young, in night-caps and 
short chemises, or whatever they may be called, or so 
great a variety of human understandings unadorned, 
of all forms and sizes. Above the berth where I lay 
dry and snug, were two fair-haired gentlemanlike 
little boys, of whom I had taken some notice. Un¬ 
fortunately they lay just beneath an open port-hole 


AN INCIDENT AT SEA. 


399 


through which the sea-water poured, almost deluging 
them ; and certainly their terror was reasonable and 
great. This, however, was by no means the opinion 
of a coarse-looking German father, who had been 
sleeping snug and dry behind the store, and he forth¬ 
with commenced the thrashing system. This was 
too much of a joke, and his astonishment was great, 
as subsequently his thanks, when reason came to his 
aid; when I rescued them, and having wrapped them 
up snugly in a large fur cloak, they were soon sound 
asleep again. Happily the morning soon broke bri ght 
calm, and another onslaught was made on the bread 
and butter. The supply, however, was soon exhausted, 
and. there was no alternative but that of raw salmon, 
pickled herrings, and cucumbers. Ere mid-day, how¬ 
ever, we were fortunate enough to reach Mai mo, and 
ere the day closed I found myself safely lodged in the 
Phoenix Hotel, Copenhagen (not equal, in my opinion, 
to that called “ d’Angleterre”), with a comfortable 
dinner before me, a warm room within, and a snow¬ 
storm without. 

• * 

For those who visit Copenhagen on pleasure intent,, 

select late June or early July. A visit will well repay 
the tourist, and add pleasure to the lover of fine arts. 

As regards the people, I only do them justice in 
asserting—at least, as far as my individual knowledge 
and association leads me—that although they appear to 
amalgamate many of the peculiarities of their German 


400 


THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 


neighbours, combined with the tastes of France 
and England, they are more like the latter than 
the former. German dulness is enlightened by a 
dash of French gaiety, the two being blended with 
the frankness of England. Moreover, they are a 
clean and industrious people, and proverbially hospi¬ 
table and civil. 

Notwithstanding the superior beauty of that part 
of Copenhagen called the old town, the new town of 
Amalienburgh is the principal residence of the aris¬ 
tocracy, diplomatic and fashionable people. The former 
is mostly inhabited by merchants and ship-owners. 
In Amalienburgh, besides the handsome houses of the 
nobility, there are various public buildings. Summer, 
as I have already said, is the period of the year for 
visiting the city. By the route when crossing from 
Hamburg, when the ice is ill-humoured, you may 
chance, as I have, to be obliged, whether you like it or 
not, to halt by the way on an island called the “ Devil’s 
Island,” and a devil of an island it once was to those 
who were compelled to remain the night. It chanced, 
however, that on one occasion the elements obliged a 
royal prince or king to halt there, not only for one, 
but several nights, till the fog cleared away, or 
the ice froze or thawed, and on the second day he 
had little or nothing to eat. The effect, however, 
if not to him, has been most advantageous to the 


THE DEVIL'S ISLAND. 


401 


Danes, as to all travellers, as bed and board may now 
be obtained with some comfort at a reasonable outlay. 

I am not aware as to whether there have been 
changes in recent years as regards court etiquette at 
Copenhagen. But formerly the king held a levee 
every fortnight, at which a supper was given; on 
which occasion no foreigner could obtain access who 
had not the rank of Colonel. On these occasions all 
precedence is disregarded except with respect to the 
Boyal family, whose seats are of course sacred; the 
number of ladies and gentlemen invited are equal; 
tickets being disposed in two hats, from which the 
ladies take one ticket, the gentlemen another; on 
the whole being drawn, an officer calls the numbers, 
and each gentleman gives his hand to the lady who 
holds a similar number. 

The houses of the city are generally of brick, stained 
to resemble stone, and some are of freestone, built in 
an elegant style of Italian architecture. The shops 
are in the basement story, and, by making no promi¬ 
nent appearance, do not disfigure the beauty of the 
buildings. The streets are divided by canals, which 
afford great facility to the transport of goods, but 
have narrow and inconvenient footpaths. 

The most striking object, however, is the harbour 
and naval arsenal. It is capacious enough to hold 
upwards of five hundred men-of-war, and yet only one 

26 


402 


THE QUEEN'S MESSENGER. 


ship can enter it at a time. It is well protected by 
batteries and forts of heavy guns. There are no 
tides in the Baltic; but the depth of water in 
the harbour renders it perfectly secure for the largest 
ships. 

Almost all well-educated persons you meet with 
speak either French or English. The officers of the 
army and navy almost universally speak these 
languages; moreover, they are peculiarly courteous 
and attentive to strangers. 

No respectable stranger, in fact, can enter Copen¬ 
hagen without soon becoming the object of frank and 
generous hospitality. I once had the good fortune to 
partake of the hearty profusion of a Danish dinner. 
It was given at the country house of one of the most 
esteemed inhabitants of the city, and was served in 
the following manner:—Soups top and bottom; 
Norwegian beef, boiled; hams, fish, pigeons, fowls; 
spinach and asparagus. The meat is always carved 
by the host, and handed round by the servants. 
Etiquette proscribes the touching of any particular 
dish out of its regular course, although the table may 
be groaning under the weight of its covers. This 
custom is occasionally a little tantalising. Creams, 
confectionery, and dry fruits followed. The wines 
being various and excellent, the repast lasted a for¬ 
midable length of time. 


DINING IN COPENHAGEN. 


403 


It was in fact two hours of hard stuffing* in a fo 0 * of 
hot meats, the appetites of the fair ladies present 
being far, I might add very far, from being puny or 
fastidious, but no doubt what they ate did them good, 
and it is only justice to say that their libations were 
moderate. 

As in Russia, the climate is as it were divided into 
two seasons—summer and winter—a short, light, hot 
summer succeeds to a long, dark, cold winter, which 
lasts from October to April. 

Few travellers appear to me to visit Copenhagen in 
comparison with other European capitals, and yet 
there is much to interest the lover of art. There are 
many old palaces and mansions—that most worthy of 
notice being Rosenburgh. It was constructed by 
Inigo Jones, and stands in the centre of a large gar¬ 
den. There is an air of antiquity in all the apart¬ 
ments, tapestry, and furniture, which is not dis¬ 
pleasing. The tapestry-hangings, which are not ill- 
executed, represent the various actions by sea and by 
land which diversified the ancient wars between the 
Swedes and Danes. At one end of the grand apart¬ 
ment are three silver lions, as large as life. On my 
' life, I confess to a desire to have had them con¬ 
verted into five-shilling pieces and remitted to my 
banker. 

There are also several small cabinets filled with 


404 


THE QUEEN’S MESSENGER. 

't 

curious rarities, which, the various sovereigns of 
Denmark have collected, and left to their posterity. 
Ah ! how my mouth watered for many of them, which 
are of great value; others only preserved from some 
event with which they are connected. Among the 
first is a saddle on which Christian IY. made a 
kind of triumphal entry into Copenhagen; it is 
covered with pearls, diamonds, and other precious 
stones, and the spurs are of gold, enamelled with 
jewels. Their value is immense. They preserve with 
great care a handkerchief of that prince dyed with his 
hlood from a wound he received hy a ball which 
deprived him of an eye. There is also a sword of 
Charles XII. of Sweden; it is such a sword as 
such a monarch may he supposed to have used, and 
would suit a private of heavy dragoons; the blade is 
at least four feet long, and both the hilt and guard 
are entirely composed of brass. 

And now, farewell to Danish land. It has to me, 
as it must have to all, no common interest—an inte¬ 
rest doubly strengthened by associations with the 
Sovereign of England. 


THE END. 







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